When Love Failed Us, We Tried To Divorce And Also Failed

We had our first fight a week after our marriage. It was about food. Of all the foods in this world, my husband woke up one Saturday morning and told me, “My whole body is yearning for aprapransa today. It’s been a long while since I ate that food. Can you do it for me today?” I looked at him, “What’s that?” I asked. “Of all the foods in this world, that’s what you yearn for? Food I don’t know how to prepare?” 

He started talking about the ingredients and how you combine them to get aprapransa. He gave me money and asked me to get the ingredients. But there was a problem. I didn’t know how to work around crabs, I mean the big ones. That’s what he wanted on his aprapransa. I was scared of them. I didn’t eat it because my family didn’t like it. My husband wanted to eat that so I had to do it for him. I was honest. We were married so there was no reason to hide behind a curtain of lies.

“Do you know what? I don’t know how to prepare those animals for food. I don’t know where to cut off and where to leave. I may need your help around here if you want a well-prepared dish.”

“No problem dear, just get them and I’ll show you how my mother does it.”

I came from the market and this man sat on the sofa throughout. He didn’t come to the kitchen once. I would ask him a question and he would answer from the hall. In the end, the food didn’t go well. Everything was wrong with it but it looks like the aroma from the kitchen gave him the wrong impression. He had high expectations for the food but everything went down flat. He told me, “Is that all you could do? I thought I married a woman.” 

I didn’t hold back; 

“I thought I married a man who knew how to help in the kitchen, not knowing this one sits in the hall and does nothing while his wife suffers.” 

It turned into a fight where none of us was ready to back down. We went to bed angry and woke up angry. We allowed the sun to set on our anger. We went to church separately and came back separately to continue living angrily. We slept with pillows in the middle of the bed, separating our skins from each other. I want to believe we didn’t mend properly that day because from there, every little thing turned into a fight. 

We were living in a house he inherited from his father so we were not paying rent. When we got married, we planned how we were going to manage our finances. He was going to provide and I was going to support. The provision and support were not well defined but we thought we could figure it out as we go along. It got to a time I realized I was using my money for so many things. I wasn’t supporting. I was the one providing. I drew his attention to this fact and it turned into another fight. We didn’t communicate. We fought things out and in the end pretended we’d communicated and expected each other to get it.

A time came when he wasn’t talking to me at all. He would close from work, eat and go to sleep. I thought it was a phase that would disappear soon except it didn’t. I asked what the issue was and he brushed me off. It was during those moody days that I found out that I was pregnant. I wanted to tell him but I wanted to see him in a good mood before I say it. The mood never changed until one day he came home and told me he had resigned from work. 

“How? Why? You resigned from a job that’s putting food on the table? You have a new one?”

“No, I don’t. The workplace became toxic. I just had to leave.”

That wasn’t the truth. He was made to resign because of certain issues I can’t go into detail. He lied to me but I found out later from certain query letters I found in his bag. The day after he told me about leaving his job, I gave him the news of the pregnancy. There was no point waiting for a happy day because it wasn’t going to come. 

“Look at the time you chose to get pregnant. I hope you have enough money to support yourself because you know I’m jobless. If you don’t have money, then let’s get rid of it and wait for the next one when things are well.” 

That’s what he said. We were within the first year of our marriage yet we lived the way two sworn enemies would live on different sides of the borderline. “Get rid of what? If you’re a man repeat that statement again and I swear I will spend the rest of my life pouring venom into this child to hate you forever. Say that again if you’re a man.” He went mute. He couldn’t utter another word so I pretended what he said was a mistake or a bad joke but the way he lived his life from that point indicated that he didn’t care about us.

He’ll come home with his own food and eat. Sometimes he’ll go to his mother and lie about me to her so he can spend days living with his mom. His mom will call me and try to solve a problem that didn’t exist. He never for once asked how the baby was doing or ask what the doctor said after I’d returned from the hospital. He lived his life as though I didn’t exist. I was constantly crying. The only person I could talk to was my senior sister. She had also had a failed marriage so she was very careful with my issues. She was telling me to be careful so I don’t end up like her. 

One day, while chatting, I told my sister, “I can’t continue with this marriage again. I’m waiting till the baby is born. I’ll be lighter and then move out of this hell they call marriage.” 

Unbeknownst to me, my husband had been reading my messages. That night he woke me up after reading my message and told me, “You don’t have to wait until you deliver. I’ll help you. This marriage is over. First thing tomorrow morning, pack your things and leave my house. You’re not worth it.” 

I apologized to him. I told him I made those statements out of frustration and he answered, “I’m also sacking you from my house out of frustration. When the baby is born, we’ll start the divorce process. That’s what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

His mom came in. My parents came in. My sister put in her own words but he still maintained his stand. I packed my things and went to live with my sister. Three weeks later, I gave birth. My sister called to tell him and he was the first to come to the hospital with his mom. The baby was next to me while I was facing the wall. I didn’t want to look at his face.

READ ALSO: Should You Walk Away If He Hit You Just Once? 

I heard his mom saying, “Look at his eyes and toes, they are exactly like yours. That’s how you looked when you were a baby. A complete replica of you.” 

I didn’t turn. I was pretending to be sleeping. I heard him calling me but I pretended I didn’t hear him. He touched me and said, “Wake up, I’m here.” I turned and saw tears in his eyes.” 

“Can we talk?” He asked me.

“If you want to, I’m here,” I answered.

“Forgive me and come back home. Please don’t say no.”

My sister left the ward. His mother also left. The new mother I was sharing the ward with was also sleeping. 

“We don’t have to do this here,” I said, almost in whispers, “It’s a public place and anybody at all can see us and hear us.”

“I just want you to agree that you’re coming home with the baby. That’s all. Just say yes.”

“I will. But we’ll have to talk first. Not now and not here. Maybe later.”

I went to my parents’ house and he came there with his mom. He came to say sorry to my parents and asked them to plead on his behalf. My parents assured him of their forgiveness but told him everything was in my hand. He came to me and we talked for over an hour. I wasn’t trying to stretch him or anything. All I wanted was for him to start being the man I dated for over two years and married.

“You’ve changed. A lot has gone wrong but let’s correct them before we start again. Get a job. Get help with your frustration. You didn’t have a temper while dating but now you do. Let’s go back for counselling if you want to and let’s agree to start afresh, else, I will come back and everything will be the same or even worse.” 

He agreed so we started the healing process. But it looked like his healing came from his baby’s face. He was a completely different man once he saw the baby. There was nothing I told him that he wouldn’t do so a month after birth, I went back home and his mother came to live with us to help with the baby. He would carry the baby at night so I can get some sleep. During the day, he’ll step out there chasing those who promised him a job. He’ll come back home with something for me or for the baby. 

Three months later, we named the baby after his father. It was a Saturday. On Monday, he had a call for a new job. When he dressed up going to work, I would look at him and say in my head, “This is the man I married.” One night I went on Facebook and he had posted a photo of himself carrying his baby with the caption, “If being a father doesn’t change you, nothing will.” I put a heart to it and commented; “Cute” 

Should I Choose My Wife And Her Son Over My Daughter?–Beads Media

It’s our tenth anniversary this year and each day when I look at the happiness and love we are surrounded by, I look back and think of when we nearly gave it all away. I would have had a child without his father and I would have spent the rest of my life being bitter and reminding him of how his father wanted us to abort him. I would have been a complete person, incapable of giving love another chance, but three kids and ten years later, I’ve learned that love is less about words and more about deeds and it’s those deeds that raise a family filled with love like the one we are experiencing now. 

–Kate

Do you have any relationship experience to share? Email it to [email protected]

NOTE: NO PART OF THIS CONTENT CAN BE REPUBLISHED OR REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT THE EXPLICIT CONSENT OF THE EDITORS OF THIS BLOG.