My husband’s anxious cries in the middle of the night startled me out of my deep slumber at thirty-four weeks pregnant. My world was upended by his rationality, and by morning, I was forced to file for divorce.
My heart is heavy with grief as I wait for my kid to arrive. Two weeks remain till my due date, and I’m caught between divorcing my husband and bringing my tiny bundle of joy into the world. This is the tale of how one fateful night altered everything, and my name is Mary.
Daniel and I met five years ago, and ever since, I thought our marriage had been nothing short of wonderful.
My husband used to respond, “You’re being ridiculous, Mary,” anytime I was frightened about a fire. “There’s a smoke alarm, what’s the worst that could happen?”
However, I was unable to get rid of the terror.
When I was seventeen, a fire destroyed my mother’s house, and we lost our beloved dog, Grampa, in the tragedy. I once shared with Daniel, “I can still smell the smoke sometimes, and it lingers in my mind,” to which he simply squeezed my hand and reassured me. The memories of that dreadful night—the suffocating smoke, blaring sirens, and the frantic scramble as my parents and I escaped—have never left me.
We lost everything, but we were saved by the rescue crew and our neighbors. Daniel’s incessant assurances did nothing to allay my anxieties, and the trauma is still present.
I had been checking everything twice before going to bed lately. I check to make sure there are no lit candles, the stove is unplugged, and all electrical outlets are off.
I couldn’t help it, but Daniel would get irritated. My head and heart refused to listen. I had to make sure our baby was protected, that we were safe.
“Mary, we will not have a house fire. Daniel would remark, “You are simply being overly suspicious.” But I was aware of my feelings.
He and his friends returned home from work two nights ago. They made quite a commotion as they lounged in the living room.
I drew him aside, told him I wanted some quiet, and requested him to send them on their way. Daniel maintained that their activities were “harmless fun” and that he wanted to spend time with his pals prior to the baby’s arrival.
Without further argument, I simply grabbed my pregnancy cushion and hurried upstairs to our bedroom.
As the commotion from downstairs gradually subsided, I fell asleep. Daniel’s loud voice suddenly rang out to me: “Mary, honey, wake up! Wake up! Fire, fire, fire! “Get up!”
Adrenaline surged through my body, making my heart skip a beat.
I instinctively covered my tummy as if to protect it, grabbing my blanket and pillow. I shouted for Daniel to open the door and summon the fire department as I hurried downstairs after opening the door.
Daniel’s friends started laughing as soon as I walked into the living room. Daniel approached them with a hyena-like cackle. I felt lost and puzzled.
“What’s going on?” Still trying to take it all in, I asked.
Daniel went on to giggle, telling me that his friends wanted to pull a practical joke on me and have some “fun”. He was instructed to scream “Fire! Fire!” in order to frighten me.
It seemed as though someone had punched me in the stomach. Fear and anger rose to the surface. I confronted Daniel after stopping him in his tracks.
“How could you harm me like this? How could you manipulate my fear in this way? With tears running down my face, I screamed.
Daniel stopped laughing and started apologizing a lot. However, it was too late. The damage was already done. My head was spinning, and my heart was pounding.
I snapped back, “You shouldn’t have done that, Daniel,” and hurried back upstairs.
I confined myself to our bedroom in an attempt to gather my thoughts. As I considered Daniel’s negligence, tears stung at the corners of my eyes.
How could he not see that I was still triggered by this? That the sound of sirens and the stench of smoke would be like a scar in my memory forever?
I was shocked that I had allowed him to do this to me. I believed that this was over. I believed that we were focusing on understanding and trust.
I felt confined when I took a seat on the bed. I felt as though the walls were closing in on me. I tried to relax by taking slow breaths, but my thoughts were racing.
Why would Daniel act in this way? Did he not remember what I had endured? Did he just not give a damn about how I felt? His infantile antics were nothing new to me, but this? This was unkind.
I needed someone who would listen to me and understand.
I reached for my phone and punched in a number I was familiar with.
“Dad?” I spoke, attempting to maintain a steady tone.
My dad said, “Hey, kiddo,” in a kind voice. “What’s going on?”
I inhaled deeply and exhaled completely. “Dad, Daniel did something stupid, and it really triggered me… big time.”
My father’s voice became solemn. “All right, honey, please relax. Tell me what took place.
I inhaled deeply once more and described the entire situation, including the prank and my eventual breakdown.
My dad listened silently for a moment after I was done, and then he spoke. “I’m so sorry that you’re going through this, Mary. I’m en route.”
I got a lump in my throat. “Dad, sometimes I feel trapped in a never-ending cycle of fear and anxiety.”
My father’s voice grew softer. Mary, you’re not by yourself. You can overcome this because you are powerful. Together, we’ll figure it out.
Dad’s car pulled up outside ten minutes later, and I recognized the sound.
With a stern attitude, my dad entered through the open door. Come on, Mary. We’re heading out.”
I gathered my things and nodded. Daniel was still sitting on the couch, his smug, indifferent face unaltered. After causing commotion, his pals had long ago departed. I chose to ignore him and concentrate on packing.
I saw how my dad’s eyes looked directly into Daniel’s as we left the apartment.
“You’re fortunate.” He whispered to himself, “I didn’t lose it on you right now, buddy.”
For a few minutes, the only sounds we heard while driving were the distant pitter-patter of rain, the hum of the motor, and gentle music.
At last, my father raised his voice. “There are some major problems with that boy. He is aware that pushing you around in that manner is not appropriate.
The thought of Daniel’s deeds made me feel sorry. “I understand, Dad. Simply put, there are moments when I think he doesn’t give a damn about me or how I feel.
My father touched my knee. “Mary, you are so much more valuable than this. Don’t allow him to make you less bright.
His remarks caused me to smile a little as a wave of comfort passed over me.
Dad opened the door when we got home. “Let’s get you settled inside. Daniel will be dealt with later.
The full effect of Daniel’s actions struck me in the stillness of the night. It wasn’t a joke; it was an intentional attempt to scare me, especially during my pregnancy.
I felt a surge of terror at the concept. What if his foolishness caused something to happen to me or our child? The ambiguity was oppressive.
I awoke the following morning feeling determined. I couldn’t allow Daniel’s actions to define my pregnancy or our relationship. I had to take charge and defend my child and myself.
I knew it wouldn’t be simple, but I had to call my lawyer and file for divorce.
As usual, my dad was encouraging, but my mother wasn’t as sympathetic. She insisted that Daniel didn’t mean to hurt me and that I was exaggerating.
However, I was aware. Daniel had not been kidding when he played with my fears. It was about our child as much as it was about me. If he couldn’t even respect his partner’s worries or boundaries, what sort a father would he be?
Two days have passed since I made the painful decision to file for divorce. It’s too late, despite Daniel’s constant apologies and promises to change. My sentiments are irreparably wounded, and the damage is done.
I’ve realized that my feelings should not be ignored or played with, and Daniel needs to recognize that too.
If you were in my shoes, how would you handle it? Would you prioritize your well-being and safety, protect your child from a toxic influence, and take control of the situation? Or would you choose to let go, forgive, and hold on to the hope that things might change for the better over time?
