Posted by: Tricia | Friday, July 27, 2007


My babies are gone again. And again, I just don’t know what to do with myself.

I just finished my latest Netflix movie, Premonition with Sandra Bullock. It was riveting all the way through. And quite sad. It has left me with all kinds of thoughts going through my head. It touched a nerve. I don’t feel like getting into the plot right now…you’ll just have to see it for yourself.

The movie touched on the potential for infidelity within marriage, but the potential is not realized. And timing and reason for the way things happen the way they do is the whole underlying theme of this story, and like I do with anything I watch or read, I relate it to my own life.

I think now is a good time to tell a little more of my own story.

The existence of the IB is that quandary I have of why things happen when they do, and why. His creation is one of those great mysteries of life I have yet solve. And probably won’t for quite a long time. You see, he was conceived after my husband had fallen into adultery, but before I knew about it.

And I know the exact date. I remember all the circumstances vividly. I was desperately trying to connect with my husband, to try and portray to him yet again just how much I loved him. But looking back on it now, and really on our whole marriage, he just didn’t have a deep end. I was never, ever able to reach into his soul like I craved. And he had absolutely no desire to reach into mine.

My husband told me of his affair with the very best friend I had on Christmas Eve 2005. There were some pretty substantial events beforehand that precipitated him telling me when he did, so while that wasn’t exactly the best choice of dates on the calendar to choose, it happened when it happened for a good reason. We spent the better part of Christmas Day in our bedroom, with the door shut, talking ourselves blue in the face. And thank God for the RK’s Christmas presents…he was occupied with those to let us hash this out.

I didn’t get angry, or go crazy…in fact, one of the first things I said was, “I believe this is just what our marriage needed to get us on track.” Oh, how I loved him so. For these few days around Christmas, the IH was convinced that he needed to stick by his family and work things out. But then on Dec. 27, he, with my blessing, meets with her to tell her it’s over. And when he comes home, he’s a mess. He lets me know that she’s like a drug he’s addicted to. We go to bed, and while he’s capable of sleeping through anything, things in my head are swirling around at a million miles an hour. And he lays there, snoring. Finally around 2:00, I feel like I’m about to go absolutely crazy with it all, I wake him up and tell him that I’m going to drive myself to the hospital for some relief…be it medical or psychological. And that’s just what I do.

It was so hard for me to tell the triage nurse exactly why I was there, but somehow I manage to get through it, and they escort me back to a bed after taking my vitals. They ask me if I could be pregnant, because they don’t want to give me any medication that could potentially harm a fetus. I tell them I guess it’s possible, but in the back of my mind, I felt like the chances were zero. I laid on that bed trying to get some sleep while I waited and waited, and finally the doctor came back, saying that there wasn’t anyone who could come talk to me on site, but that he had a list of clinics and doctors that if I went to one right now, they’d see me immediately without an appointment. At this point, I stop him and say, “So my pregnancy test was negative…”

“No, it was positive. Who told you it was negative?”

And just like that was how I found out. Four days after I learned my husband was having an affair.

And two full years after I had gone off birth control.

We hadn’t even really been trying for another baby. I thought the birth control pills were adversely affecting my hormones, and I was tired of never feeling like I wanted to be with my husband. And now that I think back on it, he never really wholeheartedly agreed to this…he just went along with it. And that’s the story of our entire relationship together right there. He just went along with whatever it was, never flat-out disagreeing with me, or agreeing with me.

My philosophy on going off the pill was that if God wanted us to have another baby, there was really nothing we could do about it, and He would take care of everything we needed. He created the baby, after all, and I was putting my faith in Him to meet all of its, and our needs. And the IH was basically, “Yeah, OK…whatever.”

I so desperately wanted to have a fulfilling, mutually satisfying marriage. And I thought that perhaps if I went off the pill, my sex drive would come back and we’d be on our way. But now I know that perhaps it wasn’t the pill screwing up my hormones…the issues went much, much deeper.

Anyway, I just remember feeling super-sensitive to my surroundings after receiving this news. Signing out, walking out to my car, driving home, wondering how in the hell I was going give up smoking at a time like this, waking him up to tell him and wondering if he was really even awake when I did. It’s like I can remember every single second of that time, yet on another level I can’t remember any of it.

I love being pregnant. I think it’s one of the most amazing things a woman can experience, and I am so thankful to God to have been blessed with the experience. But I have to admit, the time I was carrying the IB was anything but joyful. I was the carrying the child of a man who really wanted nothing to do with me, instead of a man who thought I was so beautiful with our own unique creation inside me. I was with someone who thought there was nothing wrong with asking me to mop the floor when I was seven months along, instead of a man who wanted to spoil me and coddle me and drive me crazy trying take care of me. So much joy was robbed from this pregnancy, and I’m so angry about that.

And the IB’s entrance into the world didn’t go very smoothly. Labor went fine, but when he finally came out, he didn’t breathe. For those of you who know the Apgar scale, his scores were 2/5/7. He spent five days in the NICU under observation. He was definitely one of the healthiest babies in there, and once he met all the criteria he needed to meet, they sent him home.

And yes, I take full responsibility for his difficulties. I smoked all through the pregnancy, right up to the end. I just wasn’t strong enough to give it up with everything else I was having to deal with. And yes, I feel absolutely horrible about it. I’ll take that with me to my grave. So please…no nasty comments about how selfish I was, or how could I do that…I’m already in hell over it.

The first night the IB spent in our home, the IH spent in the hotel. With her. The whole first week, in fact.

I just don’t understand how a father could be capable of doing something like that to his newborn son…or how a husband could do that to his wife who just bore that son. The lack of an answer to this just eats at me…tears me up. I just don’t get it.

And true to the name of my blog…the silver lining:

The IB! Words just can’t describe what he is. Precious doesn’t cover it. Angel doesn’t cover it. Delight…nope. Amazing… Perfect… Beautiful… Miracle…

…that’s a good place to stop. He is healthy, he is happy. His little 11-month-old personality is utterly addictive. He has the most beautiful smile which is always readily available. His hair is golden, his eyes the color of the sky. His hands…oh, those sweet little hands! Fat little fingers with dimples in the knuckles, soft little peach fuzz on them as well (I just noticed that today!), his little fingernails that grow so fast, and that big callous on his right thumb from him sucking it. His little toes go straight across, just like my mom says mine did when I was a baby. His tummy that I love to tickle and poke…and then he laughs. Scrunches up his nose, closes his eyes, and chortles.

I could go on and on…and my concluding thought is this…

Oh dear Lord, what in the world do you have in store for that precious little boy?! That you brought him into this world when you did, I don’t understand. But I know I will someday. I know you have big things set up for his future, and I just pray that you guide me to help him fulfill it all.



  1. when people ask me if I could do it over again if I would have married the x, or go back and do it over without him I say no, because without all of that I would not have my son and I can’t imagine a life without him.

    as for the smoking, God has a way of protecting babies from some amazing things, and I’m quite sure He understood your situation, I hope you can let it go and realize that things are the way they are and nothing you could have done would change it.

  2. Thanks, Doozie. I don’t dwell on it, but it’s something that will always be in the very back corner of my mind.

    Thankfully, the IB seems to be perfect healthy, normal, and happy! The last big test will be him learning to walk. He’s pulling up now, so I don’t foresee any issues. My fingers are still crossed, though.

    Even if there are any sort of permanent issues for the IB as he goes through life, I know he’s just the way God wanted him to be. God doesn’t make mistakes, after all! I’m so eager to watch this sweet little baby mature and grow and see what path his life takes. But then again…I want him to stay my itty-bitty! Motherhood…so contradictory.

  3. ohhhh, I am looking at the picture of my baby right now his sweet little bald head, and remembering how it smelled. I’m a smeller, I used to smell his head all the time. now he is 11 and I miss those days but I do remember wondering what he was going to be like and looking forward to it!! I have to say, he is the spittin image of my x, but he has my personality…THANK YOU GOD. I’m sure that has caused a lot of problems with the X. They are hell bent on proving i’m an idiot. Hey I don’t need any help with that, I can do that on my own!!

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