You never really know a person until you see how they act in a crisis. For me, that crisis was the birth of my first child. My husband, Dave, had always been devoted to his mother, but I never saw it as a problem until the day I needed him most. As I labored in the hospital, he got a call from her. The next thing I knew, he was telling me he had to leave. The reason? His mother’s groceries were too heavy for her to carry alone. In that moment, the man I loved became a stranger, choosing a mundane errand over the monumental event of his daughter’s birth. The shock was so complete it left me numb.
His departure forced a strength in me I didn’t know I possessed. With the support of a incredible nurse and my father, who dropped everything to be my rock, I navigated the most intense experience of my life. I held my daughter, Gabrielle, for the first time surrounded by love, but it was a different love than I had expected. It was the fierce, unconditional love of family, not the partnered love of a husband and wife. I made the decision to leave the hospital with my dad, a clear signal that Dave’s actions had consequences. I left him a note and a video of the birth he missed, a silent testament to his poor judgment.
When Dave finally found us, his apologies were plentiful. He was remorseful and desperate for a second chance. But the experience had changed me. I told him that forgiveness would not be given easily; it would have to be earned every single day through consistent, reliable action. The journey to rebuild our relationship has been difficult, and the shadow of his choice still remains. The entire ordeal taught me a brutal but vital lesson about my own resilience and the importance of having a support system that shows up when you need them most.
