He Makes it So Much Better

My mind has a way of taking off in directions not so kind to my heart. I sat there, sulking, as it occurred to me the feelings coursing through my body. I'm being replaced. It's the same old story. You're just not enough. So that's why my friends go looking for other friends and the barbecue chicken pizza turns out to be a disaster. Not because they are completely entitled to an endless stream of friends that don't include me. Or because the store sold me a two-weeks-out-of-date pizza crust. It's all my fault. It's all your fault. You're just not enough. Forget the fact that we'd had a relaxing post-work chat over coffee at Starbucks, or the fact that I'd spent my whole working day in the company of a friend I hardly ever get to see, or that I had a great session of prenatal yoga ahead of me. You're just not enough and will never be.

By the time I'd finished making the unfortunate discovery of the two-week-old pizza crust, I went straight to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet. And I cried. Then I got up, and hurriedly declared I was going to do my yoga. He was bewildered. Only recently clued into my no-one-likes-me feelings ruminating in the dark places of my mind, he was piecing it all together.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." *sniffle, then jam the remote trying to get the yoga video on and going, hopefully propelling me into some portal of total security and serenity*

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talking about the friend thing didn't make it any better, so no." *SOB*

"Is it just that or..."

"IT'S EVERYTHING!" *SOBBING ensues and increases to the point of a total breakdown*

Over my meltdown, I barely hear him attempting to clean up the disastrous pizza mess, it all smelling to high heaven like the worst pizza you've ever tasted in your life. I can make out the small creak of the dishwasher door, the silence as he considers what task could possibly make this all okay and soon he's in the doorway. He comes to me, in my orange seat that I've balled up into after the realization that yoga won't fix this, and he kisses my forehead and wraps his arms around me.

"Let's just lay down and let me hold you. We don't have to talk. That's just a better place to cry, okay?"

And so we made our way to the bedroom, and the sobbing, while still very present, lessened. I could feel my thoughts making themselves aright, slowly making their connections with the feelings scratching at the walls of my heart.

"It's just the three of us now - that's what matters most."

*sniffle sniffle sniffle*

"You are the best wife ever."

*sniffle sniffle*

"...and I'm just surprised this is the first time something like this has happened since you've been pregnant - at least like this. I thought surely by now this would have been happened many times."

*sniffly laughter ensues*

He makes it so much better.