The Head Vs. The Heart

So, apparently, someday came a lot sooner than I expected.

On Friday morning, Mo and I had another knock-down, drag-out fight.  It started over something trivial (doesn't it always?) and escalated into a screaming match.  I stayed as calm as I could while he blasted me with obscenities and told me, over and over, to get out.  I said okay.  He kept at me until I eventually responded.  And what came out wasn't pretty.

For the first time ever, I told him that he wasn't enough.  That if he made me choose between him and a chance at a child, I wasn't choosing him.

I left that morning bawling.  He called me within the hour, not apologizing exactly, but telling me that he loved me and wanted me to have a good day.  He said he knew it didn't fix anything and that we would talk later.

Fast forward to yesterday.  He had an away game about three hours north Friday night, so we didn't see one another.  He was asleep when I got up Saturday, and I headed over to my mom's to let him rest.  When I got home he was still sleeping.  A few hours later, as he gets up and starts moving through the house, it is clear he is ignoring me.

I finally ask him if we are going to talk.  There's nothing to talk about, he says.  It has all been said.

Indeed, it has, hundreds of times.  I suppose that's why I was so surprised -- he has never meant it before.  I guess this time he did.

Our conversation the next few hours was jumbled, and messy, and I cried.  A lot.  Hating myself for it, I could not just agree with him and walk away. Yes, I know that we are unhappy.  Yes, I understand that it may be best for us to cut our losses and start fresh.  Yes, I get that we may have been through so much together that it is impossible to recover from it.

But when I walked into the bedroom and saw him snuggled up with Fat Girl and Big Boy, all I wanted was to curl up into his arms and pretend that everything was fine.  We've been a family for so long, just us.  I can't picture my life without him in it.

I can't picture it childless, though, either.

I pushed, and pushed, like I always do.  I asked him, other than a divorce, what was it that he thought would make him happy.  Some solitude, time by himself?  I just can't bring myself to think that this is really it, it's over.  One minute we're cuddling and the next we're divorced?  The incongruity of it all is hard to fathom.

I don't know how he feels this morning.  He reached out for me in the night, and we spooned, but I'm not naive enough to think that means anything.

There's a part of me that knows he is probably right.  I'm not sure we CAN recover from everything life has thrown at us.  I don't know if we should even try.

My head, jumbled though it is, understands his logic.  It's just that my heart, stubborn and foolish, can't quite seem to get on board.