This blog post started out soooooo different 2 hours ago.
I was drunk.
I was a hormonal, lonely, trired drunk who couldn’t go to bed because I’d stupidly thought it to be a good idea to put the dishwasher on before I headed upstais. And you can hear it from the bedroom. So I decided to blog to pass the time and let out some emotions.
Well the dishwasher has long finished, and I am still awake. I am in the 2am club. But not for the baby-related reason I’d like it to be.
The background to tonight is as follows:
Today marks CD1 of cycle 16 (I actually had to go back and count because there’s been that fucking many cycles) and Dave went away to Sunderland overnight with two mates to celebrate one of their birthdays. This meant I had the day on my own and the house to myself. I texted Dave this afternoon to say that my period had come (although we were both expecting it anyway because my temp took a nosedive yesterday) and he very sweetly replied how sorry he was and that he loved me so much and was dreaming about us becoming a three.
I should have seen that as a warning sign.
I ordered a big fuck-off Domino’s all to myself (but couldn’t finish it because my appetite has massively reduced since starting Slimming World) and worked my way through a big fuck-off bottle of wine. I don’t even drink wine.
I watched the ridiculously emotional chick-flick Miss You Already (seen before and sobbed my eyes out and thought it would be a good idea to watch it again tonight to have a good old cry.)
I thought wrong.
Instead it dredged up buried fears about doing IVF and one of us dying before getting to experience having a family together. It made me miss Dave immensely. I constantly weeped throughout the film. I stumbled across a cartoon picture of a family of bears on Instagram and texted it to Dave. He said “Don’t or you’ll make me cry on the dance floor lol”. I thought he was joking. I replied I’d been crying for the past hour because I’d made a bad choice of film in my hormonal state. He didn’t respond. I’d thought nothing of it.
So this was what I’d started blogging about. My love for Dave and the fear of one of us dying. I’ll have to get back to the subject of that post another time.
Because two sentences in, my phone rang. It was Dave’s mate. We’ll call him G for anonymity.
Now G had rung me earlier on in the night to check I was okay because of something he’d misunderstood that I’d put on Facebook. Long story short, he thought I wasn’t fine because I didn’t feel he was looking after Dave well enough, when actually I meant I wasn’t fine because I’d got my period and wasn’t worrying about Dave at all. He’d told me in that call that he’d ring me later to say they wereat the hotel safe.
So when he rang me around half past midnight I thought that’s what his call was. Although when I realised that a text would have done the trick I started to feel sick.
When I answered and he asked if I’d heard from Dave I immediately started panicking. G is a top bloke and trustworthy. He looks after his mates and he promised me earlier on that he would look after Dave. And I do trust him. So when he told me that Dave had walked off, texting G and his other mate (we’ll call him D) that he was going back to the hotel because I was upset, I got confused.
I hadn’t spoken to Dave. I was waiting for him to text me to say that he had got back to the hotel safely and hadn’t heard anything so I assumed he was still out having fun. Although I had texted him earlier saying I was upset, I didn’t realise that was going to affect him the way it did. There was clearly more to the story, and his mental state, that we didn’t know about. That’s when I started panicking more. Because the love of my life, my husband, was alone and drunk in a strange city and not in a good head space.
I told G that I reckoned it was Dave who was upset and was using me as an excuse to get away and have time on his own. I didn’t like the thought of him being in that vulnerable state and I was 150 miles away from him. If I hadn’t drunk what I did tonight I would have driven up there myself to look for him and comfort him.
Instead, I had to trust G when he said that he would find him. He said about 27 times that he would find him.
After half a dozen phone calls back and forth, and 10 minutes later, Dave was found. I spoke to him briefly and he was upset, which of course got me crying. D and G took him up to the hotel room and I anxiously waited for 15 minutes til one of them rang me back to give me an update.
Eventually G rang me, and we chatted for half an hour. What he told me broke my heart. He said that Dave had confided in him that felt a failure, and less of a man because he couldn’t get me pregnant. That couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, it is ME that feels the failure for not being able to get pregnant. After all, I’m the one that has to provide the egg, not kill his sperm, and try to implant it inside me. And I’m doing fucking brilliantly at that so far aren’t I?!
G told me that D had been talking about his own kids a lot today (yesterday? I’ve lost track of time now) and this had affected Dave having to hear it all. And it would do, because it cuts deep like a knife when I have to sit and listen to my friends talk about their children. But you grin and bear it so as not to offend or rock the boat. And that’s exactly what Dave would have done: sat and listened to his mate go on about how lovely it is to wake up to your kid in the morning, on the same day that his wife had got her period.
And all the while, he was drunk. So the alcohol would have compounded his emotions.
Hearing how my strong, masculine 31 year old husband had broken down to one of his mates (and Dave isn’t much of a talker) just broke me.
And poor G was having to listen to me cry down the phone to him whilst he was freezing his nuts off in a wall outside the hotel! He’s a good friend to us both, with a genuine sympathy and a good listener.
So now all I can think about is how I can reassure Dave that he is NOT a failure. Or less of a man. But that would be like saying how can he stop me feeling like less of a woman? You can’t help feel what you feel can you?
But Dave, when you read this (and I know you will), remember – you are the only man for me. I am so proud to call you my husband and you will be an amazing daddy to our children one day – whenever and however we get them. And talk to G more. Please don’t bottle up your feelings. I know you feel you need to be strong for me, but there is nothing wrong in letting it out to another man if you feel you don’t want to burden me with your fears. I love you.
And don’t panic me like that again. The only time I want to be in the 2am club (now 3am club) is when we have a baby!