A Long Week

This week was very long, stressful, emotional and just plain hard to get through. But it is Saturday and that means it's almost over.

Sundays have always been my favorite day of the week. Somehow it just seems your internal clock starts over on that day and it's almost refreshing. It's a new start and an ending of all the shit that happened in the previous week. Today has been very much like my Sunday.

Mr. H reads my blog and that is why I made the decision to vent to him in the last post. I couldn't get across what I was trying to say without an argument ensuing. It was hard for me to air out all my dirty laundry like that because it's such a personal and private matter, but I didn't know what else to do.

I pulled out a tablet of paper and thought I would write him a letter to tell him how I felt, but the words didn't come. I have written about 3 of these letters to him in the last 10 years. It takes a lot for me to get that angry. The kind of anger that makes me not want to look at him, or hear his voice- and this was one of those times. Except my thoughts went into the blogosphere instead of on a lined pad. In some odd way I felt if I wrote it on the paper, he would read it and put it away, almost as if he never saw it. If I typed it and let the rest of the world see it, then maybe, just maybe he would see just how serious I was. How serious I am.

I don't know for sure if he read the last post. I assume he did, but he never mentioned anything about it. And I never asked. Even though I put it all out there, it was still as if it didn't happen- I seemed to have made an impact on everyone who reads this but not to him. He apologized to me, but it wasn't anything specific- just an "I'm sorry". Which I guess is better than nothing, but I want him to know exactly what he's sorry for. I want him to feel it, and I don't know if he does. I don't know if he's sorry for saying what he did, for acting like he did, for feeling like he did, for upsetting me...I don't know. I like specifics and I didn't get that. I don't know if we will talk about what happened. I'd like to, but I don't want to argue about it. And I know because we have differing opinions, it will head in that direction.

Mr. H has been going to a grief therapist since May. This is the same guy who facilitated the support groups in the past at the R.onald Mc.Donald House last year. I finally decided it was time for me to go. I went yesterday and walked out of there feeling like I had a huge weight lifted off of me. I felt lighter. I spilled my guts to him and shed about 3 tears- that's all I allowed myself. And the reason those tears fell was because he asked me if we have ever talked about divorce. He asked me if I have ever thought of leaving Mr. H. He asked if I ever would and it made me incredibly sad to visualize my life without him. That's not a part of the plan, but neither was having our babies die. Things change but I always thought that he and I would be the one constant. And yesterday I was very unsure of even that.

After 80 minutes of talking (or listening) he came to the conclusion that the stress of carrying all that around with me was a huge burden. No shit! He was really surprised or "enlightened" by all the info I threw his way. He can't legally tell me what he and Mr. H talk about and vice versa, but some of the things I mentioned seemed foreign to him. I assumed after going to weekly therapy for 3 months that they would have come up and they weren't. So that says to me that he and Mr. H aren't making much progress or I am a basket case. Maybe both.

Thank you to anyone who sent over an email of concern or encouragement and to those of you who took the time to call or send funny pictures to make me smile. Your kindness really did make a difference to me.