After a long wait, my husband went on vacation just before my twins’ scheduled C-section — his legs nearly gave out when he came back.
Trevor and I struggled with fertility for a while. When pregnancy was finally confirmed, we learned twins were on the way.
The pregnancy brought many difficulties. The doctor told me I’d need a C-section. Walking or managing household chores became nearly impossible, and even basic necessities like using the bathroom were a challenge.
The surgeon advised us that recovery would be no small feat, and Trevor should be ready to assist.
Trevor, instead, approached me and said,
“Honey, my friends and I are going on vacation. The beach, the ocean, cocktails. What could be better?”
A wave of shock hit me. I said,
“Trevor, my C-section is scheduled in just A FEW DAYS. I can barely even get out of bed. How could NOW possibly be the time for a vacation?”
But he replied with indifference,
“I want to relax before all the crying, diaper changes, and everything else starts. WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL? I’ll be back before the C-section.”
Trevor wouldn’t change his mind, even though I struggled to cross the room for a drink.
My mother came over to support me, and soon after, I went in for the scheduled C-section.
Trevor was meanwhile sharing beachside photos, over a thousand miles distant, cocktail in hand.
Two beautiful girls arrived.
Recovery was tough.
Once back home from the hospital, Trevor was about to return from vacation.
I didn’t reach out to him at all.
Still, I intended to make sure he didn’t simply move on from this.
SOMEONE came to our house on the day Trevor was due home.
Trevor entered with his suitcase, stunned by WHO sat in the living room.
He yelled out:
“No, not YOU! What THE HELL is going on here?” ⬇️