I Was Injured and Struggling With Our 5-Month-Old Twins, but My Husband Told Me I Had to Handle It Alone and Soon Regretted It

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I said: I’m going to let Derek take care of the boys. By himself. For one evening.

There was a brief silence.

Sandra said: just one evening?

I said: start with one evening.

She said: I’ll be there at four.

Then I called my mother.

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I told her the same thing.

She said: what are you going to do?

I said: I’m going to leave.

She said: leave?

I said: just for the evening. Long enough for him to understand.

She said: where will you go?

I said: I’ll come to you. I’ll  sleep.

She said: what about the boys?

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I said: Sandra will have them for an hour. Then she’ll bring them home. And Derek will be there, because I’ll have texted him to come home on time, and he won’t have any reason to think anything is different.

My mother was quiet.

She said: and then?

I said: and then I won’t be there.

She said: is this a good idea?

I said: I don’t know. But the other ideas haven’t worked.

She said: all right. Come when you’re ready.

I spent the rest of the day in the specific preparation of someone who is leaving a situation temporarily and needs to make sure the necessary things are in place. I made sure the formula was made and ready, because by four o’clock we had supplemented the nursing enough that Derek could manage a feeding. I made sure the diapers were stocked and accessible. I made sure the boys’ pajamas were laid out, clean, where they could be found.

I wrote a note.

The note was not dramatic.

I had considered dramatic but decided against it because dramatic invited a specific kind of response, which was the response of someone who felt attacked, and I did not want to give Derek the opportunity to frame this as an attack he was defending himself against.

The note said: I’ve gone to my mother’s to rest my arm. Sandra will drop the boys home at five-thirty. Everything they need is ready. Formula is in the fridge. Diapers are on the changing table. Pajamas are on the dresser. They’ll need baths tonight. Call me if you have questions.

Just that.

I put it on the kitchen counter.

I kissed both boys.

I told Sandra the plan and she nodded with the expression of someone who had been waiting for this plan or something like it.

I said: you’ll bring them home at five-thirty?

She said: five-thirty on the dot.

I said: he doesn’t know I’m leaving.

She said: I know.

I said: are you okay with this?

She said: my son has been watching you manage two infants alone for five months with a broken arm and he told you it was not his problem. Yes. I’m okay with this.

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I went to my mother’s.

I want to tell you about the two and a half hours at my mother’s house, because they were their own kind of significant.

I lay down on the bed in my old room, which my mother still keeps as a room rather than an office, partly I think out of sentiment and partly because she knew before I did that there would be evenings when I needed to come back to it.

I lay down and I slept.

I slept for two hours and twelve minutes, which I know because I woke up to my phone ringing and the first thing I did was look at the time.

It was Derek.

I did not answer.

He called again.

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