by Arlene Hauben

Created on: March 11, 2010

This is a memoir about my divorce.  It was the beginning of the end of my life as I knew it.  Most significantly, it is about the time that my third child was about to be born.

My bridge club met on Fridays.  That game and needlepoint were my pregnant distractions. The evening before our bridge game in late December, I waited for Paul to come home for dinner. So far he was still with us, and I had hope. The girls and I listened for the garage door to open, and his footsteps. It would mean one more day that our world was still intact.  

But the evening passed endlessly, hour by hour, and a sickening feeling grew in my stomach.  Paul was nowhere to be found. I called his office repeatedly, but the phone just kept ringing. I kept hearing his threatening words in my brain, “I’m tired of doing everything that other people want. I want to take care of myself for a change and do what makes me happy.” 

Well, it's always about you and your war and your escape to America, I thought. Your parents and sister always came first.  Never mind about our life, our marriage and children. Why did you want another baby? We planned it together.  I got pregnant the first night we tried. My brain would not stop. 

I called my mother-in-law, but did not reveal my panic. He wasn't there. Sleep was impossible. By the time morning came, I was drained and exhausted. Then about 7:30 in the morning, the phone rang breaking the dead silence in the house.

It was Paul, talking in his cool voice. “Hi, how are you doing?" Then too quickly, "I’m sorry I never got home last night. There was something I had to do.”  Like what, I thought.  Take your girlfriend out to dinner?  But I said, “Where were you? Why didn’t you call?” Just silence. He ended the conversation, saying softly, “I hope you have a nice day.” 

What are you kidding? I thought. You don't even explain to your pregnant wife where you were all night.  Your wife who is in her seventh month!  Just tell me the truth.  I wanted to die on the spot, but my baby…oh…my poor baby. 

What could possibly make this a nice day?  The worst was how powerless I felt…how helpless.  With my huge pregnant belly, it would be a long time before I could take action.  I looked at myself in the mirror, "This is it, but there is absolutely nothing you can do about it until you

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