Divorce?

When I told my mom about our ultrasound, of course she was heartbroken for us.  Among many other things, she expressed the hope that this did not tear my husband and me apart. 

That seems like an odd thing to worry about, and yet there is a point when people go through so much, their marriage just cannot make it.  There are many stories of marriages failing in the face of significant illness or death.  My brother and his wife had a child, almost a decade ago, with significant disabilities.  (She’s okay now.  Let’s worry later about what the chances are that both of us would have children with severe and rare birth defects.)  The first year of her life, they were under so much stress just trying to keep her alive, their marriage almost did not survive.  (My parents dropped everything to help them and we believe that but-for that level of support, they would have divorced.)

Anyway, my mom, who has first-hand experience with this, repeatedly urged that we not let this tear us apart.

I brought up my mom’s comments with my husband the night of our ultrasound, and at first he sort of laughed it off, like that’s not going to happen to us.  But upon reflection, he amended his statement—probably not going to happen.

Why do people break up in the face of significant hardship and tragedy?  I’m sure there are lots of reasons: stress, handling it in different ways, not being able to take care of yourself and nurture your relationship, etc.  

I already feel it a little bit.  I’ve been through so much, I think I’m losing the ability to feel anything, let alone connect with and care for another person.  I’ve already written about how the physical intimacy in our relationship has plummeted.  But I think the emotional has too.  I feel like a robot, just going through the motions of living.  Wake up, eat breakfast, take medicine, go to work, eat lunch, work more, come home, engage with child, eat dinner, discuss household issues with husband, put kid to bed, read a few articles or watch a little tv, get shot, go to bed.  Repeat.  There is no joy, no passion, no meaning in this life.  It’s just punching the clock, waiting to grow old and die.  (Clearly I’m suffering from some kind of depression.  Add find a therapist to my list of things to do.)

How is that the environment for a happy life, let alone one that includes and nurtures another person?

I know the news is still early and we’re going back next week for more information, but my husband is taking this really hard.  He took the anencephaly diagnosis hard, of course, but I think he allowed himself to believe it was just an anomaly.  From the beginning of this pregnancy he’s been urging me to be optimistic, and I can see now that he was not just trying to cheer me up—he was making himself believe it too.  He was really shocked to get the news in the doctor’s office that there’s likely a serious problem with this pregnancy.  I’d been emotionally preparing myself for bad news, so of course now I can say “see, mom’s intuition!”  But he really, truly, had not given that possibility more than a cursory review and rejection.  He confessed that he thought it was stupid we even had a high-risk OB appointment, other than to confirm the baby did not have anencephaly.

I think he really needs my support, and I’m just not sure I have the capacity to provide it.  I can barely support myself.

So, are we going to get divorced?  I really hope not.  I love him.  He’s my best friend.  But I acknowledge that I/we are not in a great place right now.

If we lose this pregnancy, I think we can get back to a place where we can be happy again.  But if we give birth to a child with severe disabilities, I’m not sure we’re strong enough to make it.  Maybe if we had started from a really good place we could make it work, but we’re coming from such a low, bad place (the lowest, worst place I’ve ever been in), I just don’t know.  I don’t know.