So Much It Hurts (33 page)

Three long, grueling weeks passed. As promised, Michael called Eli every day, and every day Eli begged him to come home. “Not yet,” was always his answer.

Alone.
It was a word I had learned to accept in the weeks since Michael left for his ‘business trip.’ Alone wasn’t something I had ever considered until the first night I spent in our bed after he left. The house seemed eerily quiet, even with Eli just down the hall. Eli must have thought so too because he ended up in my bed most nights. My morning sickness had finally subsided, but my depression seeped its way into my everyday life. Daily activities were such a drain on my energy; I barely functioned most days. However, I knew I had to be strong for my son. My attitude affected his little life. I never knew how strong I was until my husband left me. I never realized how
good
I had it until the day my life, as I knew it, had been ripped away from me.

I tossed and turned in bed one night, trying to get some sleep, with no success.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed beside me on the bed stand. Eagerly, I grabbed it, praying it would be a text from Michael:

Thank God!

I anxiously awaited his arrival. Around midnight I heard his key turn the lock, and he tiptoed into the kitchen. He made his way up the stairs and stood at our bedroom door.

“I’m awake,” I whispered in the darkness.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

“I’m glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

I heard an audible sigh.

From the sound of it, I assumed the worst and asked, “Or, did you just come home to get more of your stuff?” I sat up, hugged my knees, and wrapped the blankets under my chin.

Michael plopped down on the bed. “I’m not here to get more stuff.”

I released a grateful sigh of relief and lay back down on the bed. Michael kicked off his shoes and laid down beside me.

“Michael—”

“Please, Kaitlyn. Just hear me out.” He sounded tired, destitute even.

“Okay.”

“In some ways, I can’t blame you. I know I haven’t been the kind of husband you’ve needed me to be.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Michael. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m not blaming myself. I’m just trying to comprehend and justify
why
you would do this. I know you loved him. I knew the night I met you at the dance who held the key to your heart. I just thought I could love you enough to forget him. Now I see that I was wrong. I’m hurt beyond belief that the only woman I have ever loved has broken our vows, given her heart to someone else, and shattered mine.”

My eyes were brimming, but I didn’t speak. What could I have possibly said in that moment? No words, no apology, and no act of valor could erase the damage I had done.

“I forgive you,” Michael whispered.

What?
I stared at him incredulously, although in the darkness I knew he couldn’t see my face.

“I took my vows seriously when I promised ‘for better, for worse, until death do us part.’ It’s taken me a while to get my head straight, but I have forgiven you. Now, I just have to try my best to forget.”

I sat in silence, unsure how to process what he had just told me.
He’s not kicking me out? He’s not sending me packing? He’s not threatening to divorce me? I don’t deserve this man—this good, faithful, loyal, and amazing man.

Ever so slowly, I reached across the bed and found his hand in the darkness. The warmth of his hand that enveloped mine felt like a sonic boom to my heart, reigniting a passion between us that had long since burned out.

“We’ll get through this,” I spoke softly.

Michael pulled me close and wrapped me in his arms. “I love you,” he whispered, “more than you will ever know. You cut me deeper than you will ever realize, but I am willing to fight for us. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose the family bond we have created with Eli. This family means everything to me. I am willing to fight to save it. The tiny life growing inside of you, it didn’t ask for this—to be born into a broken home. If need be, when we’re ready, we can take a DNA test. If it proves I’m not the biological father, then we can determine the right time to discuss the truth with the child. But, I will love this baby, no matter what.”

Michael was my best friend. He was the one I’d stood at the altar with and vowed to love, honor, and cherish for life. He was the father of my child. I trusted him and depended on him. He was safe—my shelter from the storm. He was everything I needed, and nothing I deserved.

“Michael, there’s nothing I can say to fix this. There’s nothing I can do to make up for what I’ve done. I never wanted to hurt you. I was selfish. I’m sorry. Those words seem so empty right now, but please understand that I mean them from the deepest part of my soul. I’m so, so sorry.”

Silent tears slid down both our faces as we held each other close, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

My overly sensitive gag reflex jarred me from my semi-lucid state. I sat up quickly, clamping my hand across my mouth.
Oh no! I thought this morning sickness stuff was over!
I barely made it to the bathroom in time. Hugging the toilet as if it were my life raft in an angry sea, my traitorous stomach heaved violently into the cold porcelain bowl. I wasn’t sure if it was a virus, morning sickness, or my body purging itself of the torturous guilt I’d harbored for four months, but I prayed hard it would end soon. In my weakest moment, just when I thought all my energy had been spent and my rebellious stomach had won the battle, I felt my hair being lifted from around my face.

Michael stood behind me, holding my hair, “It’s okay,” he consoled me. “It’s okay.”

I collapsed onto the cool tile floor, draping myself across the rim of the toilet seat, overcome with defeat, crying tears of utter exhaustion. Michael continued to hold my hair back and began rubbing his hand across my back in an effort to soothe me.

“You’re going to get through this.
We’re
going to get through this, together,” he reassured me.

“I don’t deserve this,” I cried into the crook of my arm. “I don’t deserve you being this nice to me.”

Michael ran his fingers through my hair. “We’re in this together, Kaitlyn. I’m not giving up. We all make mistakes. I’m not perfect. You’re not perfect. I don’t know what happened between us to make you run into the arms of another man, but I’m going to make damn sure you’re never tempted again. Things are going to change, starting right now.”

With that, he pulled me up from the floor and held me against his chest. Surrendering myself to his embrace, I nuzzled into the softness of his shirt, breathing his familiar scent that translated to
home
in my mind.

“I love you, Kaitlyn.”

“I love you, too, Michael…more than I ever realized.”

He tensed his jaw in an effort to control his quivering lip. His voice cracked as he spoke, “We’re a family. Families stick together no matter what, through thick and thin. We are going to come out stronger after this—just you wait.”

We heard a soft knock at the door. “Daddy? Is that you?”

“You bet, buddy,” Michael opened to the door to a sleepy-eyed little boy who stood in the hallway holding his stuffed T-Rex by one clawed foot.

Immediately, Eli’s eyes perked up. “Daddy!” he squealed with delight. Eli dropped his T-Rex, ran toward us, and grabbed our legs, joining us in a group hug.

Michael had been amazing throughout the entire pregnancy. From late night runs to the 24-hour drive thru to pick up my never ending craving for fast food French fries, to holding my hand through every ultrasound and medical test, he had been nothing short of wonderful. Every day I beat myself up internally for doubting our marriage and breaking our vows. But, Michael never brought it up again, never let me wallow in self-guilt, and never threw it in my face. With a lot of marriage counseling and many late night talks, we were able to put the past behind us. Our marriage had become stronger than ever, just like he promised.

Michael even sent me flowers the day after we found out we were having another boy. I was in the closet, sorting through a box of maternity clothes, when I heard the doorbell ring. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I rushed to the door. Opening it, I saw a beautiful bouquet of roses hiding the face of the man delivering them.

“Mrs. Kaitlyn Thomas?” the delivery guy asked.

“That’s me.”

“These are for you.”

“Wow,” I said, taking the flowers from his hands. “They’re beautiful.”

“Enjoy.” The flower delivery guy chuckled and bounded down the steps toward his white van parked in the driveway.

“Who was it?” Eli asked at the top of the stairs.

“Flowers for me.”

Eli shrugged. “Oh, okay,” he said and traipsed back to his room. I guess flowers don’t really impress a five year old.

I placed the flowers on the kitchen table and opened the envelope that had been pinned to one of the leaves. The card simply read,

Hours were spent trying to come up with boy names since we had used our favorite boy name on Eli. Late one night we overheard Eli talking to his stuffed animals in his bedroom. He was explaining to them that he would have to share them with his baby brother, Ethan. Michael and I immediately looked at each other and said, “That’s it!” So, Eli’s brother finally had a name, and it couldn’t have been more perfect.