That Christmas the sparks flew and our desire for each other grew and even I have to admit that there was more between us than a sex drenched abyss of emotion or fleeting passion but love, love that we'd swept under a rug of responsibilities: the kids, the bills, the non-existent budget and so much more that married life with children wrought.
He works seven days a week and me well I'm up to my neck in the boys, mess, Ayden's homework, Aaron's potty training, laundry service, cooking and catering always doing the most because I am afraid of being judged or belittled by the in-laws.
I wouldn't say falling ill was a good thing, but at least I got a break. I had felt as if I was dying inside in earlier months. Screaming but no one seemed to hear me. I then resigned all together believing that my boys would be better off without me and so too my husband who seemed to carry the brunt of the weight though he never complained.
I cried all the time and then came the heart exams and results that proved an enlarged heart and a doctor I had known for so many years sat me down to counsel me.
"I can't give you anything," she said, "not until we run some more tests, but let me ask you this what are you sitting at home worrying about?"
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes but I couldn't answer her. In truth I was worried about everything. I contemplated my existence daily. I thought of my children and what I wanted their life to be. The life I wanted to give them. Our stuggles...my husband's dreams and I would feel ashamed that we hadn't accomplished anything.
I wanted my life back. I wanted the life I had dreamed of for my children. I wanted so much to see them always happy, for my husband not to have to work so hard so I set out to have what I wanted. I set out to find a job, a regular nine to five!
I applied everywhere I knew was hiring and I targeted my prayers to the ones I truly wanted. I took my meds, tried not to stress and did my best to eat well just as the good doctor recommended, but in the end none of that helped.
I became weak, my skin was drained of colour and began to shrivel and die. My stomach worsened and I couldn't even keep down water. I was falling down often and was so exhausted all I could do was sleep or sit still. I was too weak to cater, cook, clean and all the other bits that gave me purpose.
Another visit to the doctor revealed that my blood count was deathly low and my body was prioritizing where and what organ received blood and my skin wasn't one of them. I was put on high dose iron which I always vomited.
My condition only seemed to worsen but I continued to take the steps I knew would guarantee a brighter future for my family. I began to pray more and believe God to work miracles in my life and behold I got called for an interview.