Imagine slowly getting numb, starting from your left toe and moving upward. You shake it off, thinking, hoping, it will pass. Maybe you slept on the wrong side. You just gave birth. The baby feeds from your left breast, so you sleep on the same side every night, waking three or four times to feed.
Then you realize it is not the side you sleep on, because now the right side is getting numb too. Slowly moving up. Both sides now. I cannot feel my belly or my back anymore. It keeps moving upward. I can barely sit up. My knees give in. When I try to shower, I descend slowly to the floor. I have to sit down. I can barely get dressed again.
I find it funny.
“Honey, come and give me my foot so I can put my sock on.”
People laugh with me. Then they start giving me strange looks. I should stop. Shake it off. Take better care of myself. We do not have time for this now. You have a baby to feed. A house to keep under control. Do not do this to us. Please. This is not the right time.
Us. Not me.
Us.
Me versus them.
I realize I am not allowed to be scared. I have to pull myself together. This is not in the plan. He did not sign up for this. He demands things go back to normal.
I cannot even give myself permission to think about calling a doctor or asking for help.
I lose weight. A lot of weight. Fast.
People ask me if I am ok. I say yes. Of course. I am fine. Just a little tired. You know, the baby.
I do not want my husband or his family to feel ashamed if people knew I might be sick. I cannot do this to them. Maybe it will go away if we all ignore it. I should concentrate really hard on being ok again.
Until I cannot anymore.
I can barely walk. I hit the walls with my hands to keep my balance. The man tiling our hallway suggests I see a neurologist. He looks genuinely alarmed.
How dare he.
Nobody in this family is alarmed. Everybody acts normal. Am I not OK? We decided I am OK. They decided everything is fine.
The doctor is scared. Very scared. They think my internal organs might also be numb. They say this could be life threatening.
Anyway. I have a baby to feed. I cannot stay in the hospital overnight. I have a husband to feed. He needs me. He wants things back to normal. Fast. He has a reputation to protect. His family is giving him bad looks.
How dare I get sick on him.
In my mind, this is exactly what we needed, people get closer after difficulty, we sure got out of alignment after the baby, we are both so tired, I always feel backed up, can’t keep up. This should get us back on track. This is the part where couples become one, stronger together, In sickness and in health.
He files for divorce. Of course. After the long speech. After spitting on me with disgust. I am ruining his life.
He puts his hand in the fire, balling his eyes out, but it is theater. He stays far from the flame. He needs the world to see that his life is falling apart, that he is being abandoned.
I am the only audience.
I tell him I am not leaving. I love him. He says I speak from ego. Whatever that means.
He explains that I am stronger than him. That I can take care of myself. That he is not strong like me. He says he is doing me a favor by divorcing me.
He adds to my load. I must find a new place to live. Find the strength to pay rent and utilities. Transport my things and the baby back to my hometown. In the middle of a pandemic. Barely alive.
Thank you. You made the right decision. For you.
From time to time, he asks if I am seeing a doctor. If I am taking care of myself. If not, I am irresponsible. I need to be healthy so I can take care of the child.
He reminds me that he is watching. That he can take the child away if I am irresponsible.
See the Forgive yourself for staying too long prompt journal guide for processing your emotions that still hurt.
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