“I don’t want to be your wife anymore”

Those were the words I finally had to speak to my husband a few weeks ago.  They were not said in anger, they were not the result of a row.  Since being married I feel he has become more secure, which is great, but I have felt less secure.  We stopped talking, he’d play on his phone of an evening when we were supposed to be watching a film, he’d come in from work and be on his phone, and yet when it came to him wanting to do something, we were all supposed to just be in good moods and grateful he wanted to spend time with us.  As you can imagine, feeling like a piece of furniture is not conducive to a great relationship so we did have a row about his phone and lack of interest and he said he’d try harder, especially with the kids, and he has.

I still didn’t feel right.  Instead of looking forward to him coming home, I dreaded it.  I hoped he’d have to go away for work more than I usually did and I decided that I needed to figure out what was going on in my head.  I don’t like doing that.  I usually bob along, making sure everyone is happy and that’s enough, except it’s not is it? Not really.  I file things away in my brain and don’t deal with them.  I’m not good about talking about my feelings either, it’s hard enough figuring out what I’m feeling, never mind explain it to someone else.  I was really unhappy.   He knew I was unhappy.  I kept talking about how I didn’t understand the world, how I never have understood it.  I don’t “get” people and their games, and why they lie, and why they don’t just say what they mean and I feel like I don’t belong to anything and never have done.  Except for my kids.  I fit with them.  They don’t have expectations of me in the same way.  They expect me to be there and look after them, obviously, but they don’t expect sparkling conversation or little amusing bon mots, I’m just there to be mum which I have done for, like, ever- so it’s something I know I can do.  Kids are easily amused, you just act daft and tell poo jokes.

And that’s when I knew what the problem was.  It’s the expectations that fill me with anxiety and unhappiness and the fact that I know I can’t fulfil those expectations.  I am not like most people, I am a nervy, anxious person and according to my husband very black and white about certain things like lying.  I don’t understand lying.  It drives me insane.  Why bother telling lies- you will get found out then trust will be broken and I will think you were trying to make a fool of me.  Ok you don’t have to be blunt but there’s nothing wrong with being honest.  Anyway, I’m going off the point.  The point is I can’t be the wife he expects, society expects and that I think everyone expects.  I couldn’t be the daughter, the sister, the girlfriend that was expected and I’m tired of failing.  So I told him I didn’t want to be his wife.  I told him if he wanted to go and find someone more “normal” he was welcome to, and I wouldn’t hold it against him and we’d make it work with the kids.  As I said, I am not good at expressing myself and the conversation went on for quite a while, as he was checking if I wanted to leave (no), if I was looking for someone else (no), if I was having another breakdown (no).  I just wanted to have my friend back who used to laugh with me, support me, have fun with me, talk nonsense with me, and all the other things we used to do.  I told him being a mum of 4 with each child having such great needs, and the lack of sleep meant I couldn’t be “a wife” the way he wanted.

Then he asked what I needed from him.  I told him I needed no pressure and I needed to know what he wanted.  He wants to be with me.  He wants us to stay a family.  He wants me to deal with everything that’s happened over the last 40 years, however long that takes, and he wants me to be happy.   He told me he didn’t give a **** what society expected.  He told me he always knew I wasn’t like everyone else, then proceeded to list all the ways in which I was different.  The list was quite extensive!  But, he said, I made life more interesting and challenged his ideas on lots of things and came at things from a different perspective.   Him being distant didn’t help our relationship but me being unhappy and maybe pushing him away definitely didn’t help.  Catch 22 situation.  So we are together, in that we are sharing the house and the children, but also back as friends.  Since our chat I feel relieved that he is willing to stand by me while I sort through my head and that he doesn’t expect me to change with regards my “oddness”.  I have found someone I don’t have to pretend with, pretending is exhausting.  I might get a chance to be myself.

I know this may have been a really selfish action, it’s all about me kind of thing, but I didn’t want him to stay and get nothing from it.  He’s allowed a life too.  I’ve told him he doesn’t have to do everything with me.  I’m not keen on going out so if he wants a night out with mates he can do it guilt free.  It’s a work in progress though as I’m not the only one in this relationship with issues.  Just as he has helped and supported me, I will do the same for him, when he’s ready.  We are happier now.  I don’t know how long it will last, I suspect our relationship will always have problems but I think we both feel a bit more confident broaching things with each other now.  If I was going to be with anyone, it would be him, we just have to define what “wife” means to us.  For the first time in a long time I feel a little bit optimistic about the future.  Just a little bit.

 

xx

7 days, 3 hospitals, 2 pox and one pizza ceiling.

It has been a very eventful week. My daughter had a couple of worries with the baby not moving and thinking her waters were leaking so she went to the doctor who immediately sent her to the maternity assessment unit as her blood pressure was high, her pulse was racing and her temperature was up.

At the unit, they hooked her up to monitors, started a trace on the baby, called a consultant and told us they had 15 minutes to treat if it was sepsis and may have to deliver at 33 weeks.  As you can imagine, this did nothing to help the blood pressure situation and with the consultant appearing in 10 minutes (I know, right, you never get them to appear that quickly) we were a bit worried.  I had taken her to the hospital, her husband was at work.  I had a word with the midwife who said to phone him because if they have to do anything it will be done quickly.  So they hang a drip with fluids and paracetomol to try to get the temperature under control.  She had a cold so then they were thinking flu, did swabs, took blood, and then moved her to HDU on the labour ward for 1-to-1 care until stabilised.

Thankfully, they managed to get everything under control and four days later she was released.  Unidentified infection treated with broad spectrum antibiotics, baby measuring fine.  Phew!  Lets go back to enjoying the easter holidays.

2 days later I get a text off one of the mums at school.  Her son has chicken pox.  He is in the foundation unit same as Popples, they have FS1 and 2 in the same unit.  I said I would keep and eye on Popples and if she didn’t get them I would be bringing the kids round for a pox party.  Didn’t need to go anywhere, she had a couple of suspect spots til after the bath- then she was head to toe, even in her hair!  Brilliant!  They could get the pox finally done with and not miss any school.  Oliver showed no signs except a snotty nose which he tends to have until spring anyway.  She had a raging temperature and couldn’t sleep due to the discomfort, so that was fun.  The calamine cream didn’t seem to work, so she has had a lot of cool baths.

2 days after that I was putting up the trampoline they have got for birthdays in the hopes it would save my furniture.  I managed to get the springs onto the frame which made them happy and they sat on it whilst watching me sort out the safety net thing.  As I was opening the metal rods that go at the top to keep it stiff and in place, I didn’t check to see exactly where they were.  They sprang open and caught Oliver in the eye.  Totally my fault, I know better and I should have checked and rechecked.

He started screaming, under his eye was bleeding and I applied a cold compress and tried to check his eye.  He wouldn’t let me look, I couldn’t drive so I asked my daughter to take me to A&E.  After 3 hours a doctor tried to check him but with him not being very cooperative and just alternating between “no, hurt” and singing get well soon, we didn’t get too far.  As a precaution he sent us to another hospital 20 minutes away that has a specialist eye department. Thankfully the nurse there let us jump the queue as by this point Oliver was really agitated.  The nurse and I had to hold him down, he had stuff squirted in his eye and the specialist finally spoke. “No abrasion, no damage to actual eye” and I almost cried with relief.  Oliver couldn’t tell me if he had blurred vision or if it felt wrong so we had had to go to the hospital.  He gave us some cream as the cuts were near his eye and he didn’t want it getting infected.  6 hours after setting off for casualty we could finally go home.

That night in the bath, I noticed a couple of blister spots on his back.  Yep he had the pox too.  I offered him some medicine last night and he nodded and took it so must have been feeling rough.  He’s having a pyjama day today. Hopefully all spots will have scabbed by school on Monday.

Oliver has returned to his old favourite pastime of throwing things.  He is bigger and stronger now so can throw a lot further.  Gooey louie now has no snot left as it’s all been thrown to the ceiling as it sticks.  I made pizza for lunch today so they can pick at it throughout the afternoon as they haven’t had much appetite.  Oliver took his into the kitchen, I thought he was eating on the picnic mat he’d made me put down for them the other day. He came in with a half eaten piece, put it on the plate then took another piece.  He came back again with a half eaten piece so I went to see exactly what he’d been doing.  I saw a bit of cheese on the floor so I picked it up and asked “what’s this” he looked up and said “Stuck!”.  I followed his gaze and sure enough it was stuck.  Bits of pizza stuck all over my ceiling, and tomato sauce where the cheese bit had dropped off.  He is obviously doing some kind of gravity experiment or it must be really good fun to make things stick to the ceiling.  He helped while I was cleaning it up by pointing out the bits of sauce I’d missed.

An that was a week of our restful Easter holidays where I was hoping to recharge a little.  Max got the best deal, his respite people stepped in and took him for a few days as he was stressing about Emily in hospital and the whining of the poxed one gets right on his nerves, so at least someone got a break. Oh and we managed to get the appeal done and sent off too.

xx