PART 17 – The Day Ethan Was Due Back, I Realized I Was Afraid of His Suitcase Coming Through Our Front Door Again

I woke that morning with a strange feeling in my stomach.

Ethan was due home soon, and I could not decide whether I was relieved or nervous.

Both, probably.

I wanted another pair of hands in the house.

I wanted somebody to hold a baby while I ate, or take over a feeding so I could lie down without listening for the next cry.

But I was also afraid of what would happen when Ethan walked through the door.

Would he act as though the argument in Cabo had been the only problem?

Would he expect me to apologize again?

Would he look around, see the three babies, and finally understand why I had begged him to stay?

I did not know.

I got out of bed and went to the nursery.

One baby was awake.

The other two were still sleeping.

I picked up the awake baby and carried him to the living room.

He settled against my shoulder while I sat on the couch.

For a few minutes, I watched the light move across the wall.

I had spent so much time preparing for Ethan's return that I had barely thought about what I wanted the day to look like.

I wanted it to be ordinary.

I wanted to feed the babies without feeling rushed.

I wanted to drink my coffee while it was warm.

I wanted to be able to ask my husband for help without having to prove that I deserved it.

Those were small wishes.

They should not have been difficult to achieve in a marriage.

I carried the baby back to the nursery and prepared for the next feeding.

The morning passed slowly.

I washed bottles, changed clothes, and tried to keep the babies settled.

Every time I heard a car outside, I glanced toward the window.

I felt ridiculous doing it.

Ethan was not a stranger coming home after a long absence.

He was my husband.

Yet I had begun to feel as though I needed to prepare myself for him in the same way I prepared myself for another sleepless night.

I did not like that feeling.

Around midday, I found myself standing near the kitchen counter with my clean coffee cup in my hand.

The little paper with my reminders was still in the drawer.

I did not need to read it again.

I knew what I wanted to say.

I wanted us to share the work.

I wanted him to respect my recovery.

I wanted him to stop treating fatherhood as something that could be postponed until he felt ready.

Most of all, I wanted to know whether he understood that I could not continue living as though I were raising these children alone.

The phone rang.

It was Ethan.

I answered.

"I'm getting ready to head back."

I felt my shoulders relax a little.

"Okay."

"How are things there?"

"The babies are fine."

"And you?"

I hesitated.

"I'm tired."

He did not immediately defend himself.

That surprised me.

"I know," he said.

I waited for more.

"I know you've been doing a lot."

I looked toward the nursery.

For a moment, I allowed myself to believe that something had changed.

"Then we need to talk when you get home."

"We will."

I wanted to ask him whether he meant it.

Instead, I said goodbye.

After the call, I sat down.

I felt hopeful, but I did not trust the feeling.

I had learned that a gentle voice could make me forget the difficult things that had happened.

I could not let that happen again.

The afternoon continued.

I fed the babies and changed their clothes.

I ate a small meal and finished my coffee before it went cold.

When the house grew quiet, I sat beside the nursery and rested.

I did not spend the entire time imagining what Ethan would say.

I tried to let the day happen.

Later, I checked the front door and moved a few things out of the way.

I did not know why I did it.

Perhaps I wanted the entrance to be clear when he arrived.

Perhaps I wanted to feel as though I had some control over the moment.

The empty space where his suitcase had stood caught my attention.

I remembered watching him leave.

I remembered the brief kiss on my cheek.

I remembered the way he had told me to rest, as though he were leaving me with a quiet afternoon instead of three newborns.

I had been so angry that morning.

But anger was not the only thing I had felt.

I had also felt abandoned.

That was the word I had been avoiding.

I had felt abandoned by the person I expected to stand beside me.

I did not know whether Ethan could understand that.

I did not know whether he would even want to try.

But I could no longer pretend the feeling was something I should simply get over.

I went back to the nursery and checked the babies.

All three were settled.

I stood beside their cribs and took a slow breath.

When Ethan came through the door, I would listen to what he had to say.

I would also pay attention to what he did.

That was all I could promise myself.

Click here to continue reading: PART 18: I Heard the Front Door Open and Watched My Husband Return From Cabo, Unsure Whether He Was Coming Home to His Family or His Old Routine