When John explained his intention to divorce me, I said he'd need to tell his parents. You see, at the time, they were making plans to sell us their larger home at a discounted rate so we'd have more room for our growing family.
In truth, I was always hesitant to move into their home for several reasons (chief among them the fact that it's huge and huge houses typically have huge electric / heating / cooling costs). Anyway, knowing that he wanted to split the family made the idea of moving into their home all the more ludicrous to me. It also seemed incredibly unfair to them because they'd be taking a loss on the home just so we'd save money. Thus, I was very clear that I was not okay with moving into their home without him being honest about the situation.
He claimed to be on board with that, however, he swears he never intended to tell me about wanting a divorce until Nathan was a year old, so I didn't exactly trust that his intentions were as forthcoming as he was making them.
Several weeks went by and I continued to remind him that we needed to tell his parents. He kept coming up with reasons as to why we should wait. I left it in his hands because I understood the conversation was going to be a difficult one. I knew he needed time to build himself up for it. However, his poor mother had come home to "get the house ready for us" and was asking me about paint choices and such. I felt so horrible that she was going through so much trouble when, in reality, I knew we wouldn't be moving in. It made me feel terrible. They deserved to know sooner rather than later, and I realized that much like any other serious conversation, if I'd left it up to John, it would simply never happen.
So the Holy Spirit presented an opportunity and I took it. More than 2 months after I told John we needed to tell his parents, I scheduled a visit to my in-laws' home to have it. John was livid with me. In truth, we were going to be in their area, they were home, and they wanted to see Vince. No one else would be home to disrupt us, so after putting Vince to bed, we could easily have the conversation with no distractions.
Also, I pointed out that he'd had more than enough time to do this without my prompting, but since he hadn't moved on it, I did it for him. I reminded him that this conversation was in no way going to be pleasant for me, either. It's not like I WANTED to do it - I just knew it needed to be done because it wasn't fair to them to be planning for something that would never happen. It wasn't right.
The entire ride to their house, he basically berated me for "catching him off-guard" and "planning this" specifically to make him look bad.
I dunno how giving him more than 2 months is catching him off guard. I also didn't plan it. The situation just worked itself out perfectly (as God's Timing always does). Besides, if it didn't happen that night, it would've been pushed off indefinitely.
Funny thing, though, is when we finally began the conversation after Vince had gone to bed, John claimed the discussion was his idea. *Rolls eyes* Oh yeah. Your idea. Right. That's why your mother's been getting texts from me for the last month trying to hammer out a time that both she and your dad were going to be in the state. But sure. This was your idea. The 20 minute car-ride of you berating me for doing this at all apparently didn't happen. I like your version of reality, buddy.
But I let it slide. He needed to have the conversation, so however he needed to get through it, I wasn't going to out him.
He started the conversation with "I'm divorcing Gina" and went on from there. For my part, I kept my mouth shut. In truth, I couldn't really talk anyway. I was doing everything in my power to remain as calm as possible. After all, I had Nathan to worry about. Since this whole talk of divorce began, I've been struggling with high blood pressure and anxiety. I've been in and out of the hospital several times because he continues to treat me thoughtlessly and there's only so much compartmentalization that can occur when one is also dealing with work, hormones and keeping this entire facade a secret.
His mother - God bless her - held my arm and cried alongside me. His father was incredulous because things had been (seemingly) going so well.
John, for his part, detailed some of the ways that he's been unhappy. Because I was present, he didn't outright throw me under the bus as he has in the past which was a plus. When his father asked him for clarity on various arguments he was making against me, John kept coming up with the same tired BS he's been saying to me for the last few months. His father called him on it. He kept saying the same thing I've been saying: "You're living in a fairy tale."
When my FIL asked how John thought this would affect Vince, John said he didn't think it'd be a big deal. That's when my FIL turned to me and asked how I thought it'd affect Vince. I could barely respond because of the tears. He said, "You don't even have to answer that. I can see it on your face."
I said, "No. I want to. It's GOING to affect Vincent. There's no way it doesn't. He's going to internalize this and think it's somehow his fault, or worse... that it's Nathan's fault. This is not the best thing for Vincent. It will never be best for any child."
And then I fell into tears again because in truth, my children are the sorest spot for me. I know that this is going to hurt them, and the fact that he's so selfish that he is willfully blind to that drives me insane. He continues telling himself that the kids will be fine so he doesn't allow the guilt of his fallacy to override his selfish desires for a fun and carefree life. It's maddening. These are his CHILDREN and he is forcing himself to believe that he's not hurting them so that he can continue hurting them. It just boggles my mind and enrages me to no end. They don't deserve that. No child does.
Anyway, his father finally got disgusted with the entire conversation, so he told John to stop talking and turned on the game. At that point, I was so spent emotionally and knew my blood pressure was way out of order. I was burning up and his mother kept offering me water to cool me down. I knew if I tried to drink anything, though, I'd immediately vomit because I was so ill from anxiety.
Heaven help me, I didn't want to make them feel worse, so I tried to reign in my emotions as best I could for them and for Nathan.
John collected a sleeping Vincent from bed, and I went to say goodbye to his father. I just about died in that moment, because I wasn't sure what to say. I felt intensely guilty for the entire situation (even though I know on a logical level that it's really not my fault). Also, what do I now call this man who has been more a father to me these last 11 years than my own biological one? I couldn't even voice "Goodbye." All I could whisper was "I'm sorry." I didn't even know if he wanted to hug me or if he was as disgusted with me as he was with John. To my surprise, he hugged me, teary himself, and said, "Don't apologize. You have nothing to apologize for."
He quickly let me go and I hugged my MIL. I apologized to her as well, but she shook her head "no" and said, "Just pray. Keep praying." We stayed like that, hugging and crying, willing our strength into one another for the war being waged.
I drove home, crying in silence as contractions started. I knew they weren't real - they were responses to the utter anxiety and stress I was dealing with. I just prayed that God would take care of Nathan since my body was incapable of it and refused to acknowledge my own tears. Somehow, I made it home and tucked Vince into bed. Sleep was no refuge that night. It hasn't been for quite some time.
We all know that solace is only found in one place, though, huh? Blessed Mother, I am with you at the Foot of the Cross and know you're with me at the foot of mine. Take this grief and use it for those intentions closest to your Heart. I have nothing else to give.