My husband and I married in July of 05. Four months later, my father was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. I discovered I was pregnant in January, to my joy, and my husbands dismay. He’s now 43 years old, Southern Baptist, I’m a cradle catholic, 27 years…
He was, in retrospect, verbally abusive the whole time I was pregnant, because he ‘couldn’t cope’ with the thought of having a baby (he was 41 at the time, divorced, w/ children) and used that as justification for his treatment of me. Over and over again, he’d tell me gems like ’ you’d better enjoy this because it’s the only one we’re having!’ or ‘boy, dear, you’re getting awfully, um, broad across the back. How much weight did you say you’ve gained?’ or this beaut- ‘what, are you just sitting there growing?’ The whole while, I’m stressing because I have a brand new job and oh yes,
(his ‘friend’ said to me’well, he said you were as big as a hall closet! You’re not that big!’ Hubby’s reply? “What? Yes she is!”)
So I had our son 12 days before my father passed away, and he’d made more comments about my weight at the funeral of all places.
I’d almost-almost-gotten to the point where I thought maybe I’d be able to forgive him, and really try again, because he’d destroyed any bond we’d built - he let me down, and then kicked me, over and over again, when I had no one to turn to, and really didn’t love him anymore. Then, about 2 mos ago, I discovered that he’s spent over $400 on porn ppv movies-all the while he’s telling me we’re so broke, that I couldn’t buy maternity clothes, or baby stuff for the nursery (I’m frugal by nature; I’m more a secondhand chic type than even a old navy baby type). He thinks I should just get over and not be mad. He even purchased a movie when he stayed home from work to watch our son, when his mother (who normally sits for us) was unavailable! I came home to a baby with a bad case of diaper rash (rare for DS, since he’s still only nursing). When I called him on the whole PPV movie thing, he got mad when I told him I didn’t trust him anymore (shocker!) and he put his fist through our bedroom door, and told me to 'Pack my ***** and get the f$%# out." (The second, maybe third time this year he’s said that to me).
I’ve spoken to a priest several times, he’s very good, but replied to my last email stating "I’ve received the e-mail. My thoughts are somewhat jumbled. I need some time to pray about my response. The subject of prayer just floods me as I read through the letter. I can not sort my thoughts out well enough just now to respond. In prayer we support true love, the best intensions toward the other. " and that he’d try to get back to me within a week. That was three weeks ago, and honestly, I’m feeling more and more anxious and trapped.
My mother is certain that I should leave and take our son. I’m severely depressed, the only joy in my life is that which I get from my son. I can’t do anything right, and DH is convinced thta I’m just unhappy because I’m not ‘coping’ with the fact that Dad died. He wont hear that it’s his actions, his words, his lack of respect that is causing our trouble. I’d rather be alone forever, than live like this the rest of my life, but I still can’t bring myself to leave.
There is only one marriage counselor in the area; I went to her once and she told me to get a divorce, that we were past saving.
How do I leave when I still love the man I thought he was, but can’t stand the man he appear to truly be? I vowed to love him before God, I’m certain it isn’t a vaild marriage, because he said so many times that he wasn’t ever having any more kids, and he obviously didn’t intend for our marriage to be exclusive, judging by his use of porn before and after our wedding, but I’m still overwhelmed with guilt and fear at the thought of1 leaving. I’m scared to death to have more kids with him; partly because he’d treat me that way again, and then I’d have two to deal with, and partly because that would make finding someone else so much harder. I want more kids-I want a big, normal, Catholic family-as God intended. I want a husband that treats me well.
Does anybody have any advice? Words of encouragement? Phone numbers for someone who breaks kneecaps for a living? (Obviously I don’t mean the last one, but I’m at the point where it’s either laugh or cry and I’m nearly out of tears!)
Reading back through this, it sounds pathetic.
It is so much better to give advice, than to act on it. I know what I’d tell someone in my situation, but I don’t know how to get started-what to do first?