After my fall and subsequent hospital stay, I was directed to take the rest of the week off. It was torture the first day after Richard left. There was nothing to do but wallow in my grief. No matter what declarations he made or the love I had for him, I had to let him go.
That knowledge, that it was for the well-being of me and our baby, didn’t make it any easier. The acknowledgment that he was the biggest stressor in my life and that stress was causing physical problems with my pregnancy was the hardest truth I’d ever had to face.
What ifs floated through my mind. Would his avoidance have been the same if I’d lived in Chicago? Would he have gone to appointments, or would work have sucked him in all the same?
Jenna came over that night and held me as I sobbed. Just her being there mean
