As I sat with my tears burning down my cheeks, and my heart torn apart, the lyrics to How’s it Gonna Be came through the stereo. She was gone and I was to blame. Money problems, working overtime to get by, and with communication in the tank, I struggled to hold it all together and apparently hadn’t been very good at it.
We had just celebrated our 2nd anniversary, but she still moved out. Not knowing what to do and not sure of who I could trust to talk to, I sat alone and the songs of the time were my escape. Little did I know the roller coaster ride that awaited me for the next year..
He would call and tell me that I needed to check on her relationship with a friend of mine. He would never give me his name, and I only remember telling him that he had it wrong, that they would never do that to me. Doubt was slowly creeping in.
During our separation, she and I would talk on the phone and work on our relationship. The blame was mine, she was not treated the way she should have been, and she would let others know it. I accepted the blame and made a thrust to save our marriage.
Communication improved and she came back home before Thanksgiving. A few days later, she informed me that she was pregnant. I asked her if the baby was mine and she looked shocked and insulted that I would ask. The words had just found their way out before I could even stop them. She said that the baby was mine and wanted to tell the glad news to my parents.
My parents took the news well and the thought of being made grandparents again, but my first, made them very happy. The next few months were some of the happiest times of our marriage, but underneath there was a sense that something was off that I chose to ignore.
I had wanted to paint the room to be used for the nursery, and she was reluctant. My wife, her mom, and her sister would go and shop for baby clothes, accessories and supplies and I was not invited. The time came for her first ultrasound and she did not want me to go. There were nights I would wake up and she was not beside me. I remember riding out early one morning to our little town looking for her. I spotted her car behind a local business. I drove up to the car but she was nowhere to be found. I waited a little while, but she never showed back up. I went back home. When I confronted her about it later, there was a not-so-believable story to cover what had really transpired.
As the due date approached, I felt the need to find a better paying job to support her and our first baby. That way she could stay at home with him. The day I started my new job, I got home and she was gone. There was only a note from her stating that she had some things to think about and wanted some time to do just that. Once again, I was alone, bewildered, and dumbfounded. I was at a loss, because things had been going so well, or so I thought.
I began my job on night shift, but she was not back home yet. A few of my co-workers had found out that she and I were expecting a child. They would ask how things were going, and I would make up whatever I could to cover up.
In the last 6 months, I had celebrated an anniversary with her, been separated from her for 2 months, spent Thanksgiving and Christmas looking forward to the coming arrival, and being kept at arm’s length for things pertaining the baby, including the choice of names for our baby boy soon to arrive. My faith in a God who loved me was feeble at best. I wasn’t sure if I even believed that He could still offer me forgiveness for all that I had done wrong. At this point, I didn’t believe there was anyone who I could talk to about the turmoil. What good was a God who never quite seemed to be as good as people said? Utterly helpless and completely alone, there was nowhere to turn.
I had been out of church for a while, I knew that I couldn’t measure up to God’s standard, and I no longer believed He could truly forgive me for all that I had done. Talk about a rock and a hard place! But I had some friends praying for me. They didn’t know the whole story yet, but could tell that there were things I couldn’t say yet.
I found myself turning the radio dial to preaching and Christian music, I guess looking for something, some sort of comfort there. I had no idea what He was preparing for me, or how much I was going to need Him…
She returned home a few days later. I asked her if she was Ok, and she said yes. I inquired more, but she was not ready to reveal it all just yet…
As I heard pastors teaching through little series on the radio, I found myself drawn to one who was explaining God’s Love and Mercy, and Justice and Wrath. For the first time in my life, I understood that I could truly be forgiven. My soul was awash with this news of His Love and Mercy for me. I was finally free from the crushing weight of my sin, guilt, and shame!
The early Spring evening was heavy with moisture in the air, and the mood in our house was the same. I came into the living room and she was there crying and writing something down. My concern led me to ask if she was OK, and her words were unable to form on her lips. As she handed me the letter, I knew it couldn’t be good. My heart sank as I read her words there.
Finally, the truth had come out, at least in part. This letter stated that she was uncertain if I was the father of the baby growing inside of her. She said she was sorry and that she never meant to hurt me. I quickly formed a plan for us as a couple, informing her that she must tell her mother. I told her that I would hold all that she had said and done inside, so that we could continue on with our marriage if the child was mine. I simply wanted to prepare her mom for what could lie ahead.
The next few months were a flurry of activity, with us taking time for heartfelt discussions and the tension still there of her keeping me at arm’s length and then pulling me in. God was at work too, preparing my heart and cultivating an attitude of forgiveness and grace for others, due to the Mercy I had received from Him.
I woke up to the phone ringing, with her aunt on the other end asking about my wife and the baby. I told her I didn’t know anything. She informed me that my wife, her mom, and her sister had already driven up to the hospital. Sick to my stomach and trying to keep some sense of calm, I clamored to get some clothes on and hop in my truck. As I started to make the trek into the bigger city, still feeling ill from the fact that she had left without me, I had to stop for some stomach-coating medicine. When I arrived, I spotted my friend’s car in the parking lot. Anger’s fire ignited every part of me inside and I was determined to set things straight. There were people who had it coming, but I was too ill to make it to the maternity ward, without stopping again.
I came to the delivery area and was stopped by her mom and sister, who were trying to prevent me from going back to see my wife. As my former best friend made his way out a different way, I was finally allowed to go back and see her. I was angry and told her that I should have been the first one she called because I was her husband. I also let her know that I now knew who it was that she had been unfaithful with. I was in no frame of mind at that time for any further conversing. I left the hospital and drove around the city for what seemed like hours. The steam slowly was wearing off, my prayers were working and thoughts of anger were slowly seeping away. I made my way back to her and the hospital.
She appeared glad to see me, or at least to see me in a calmer mood. She told me that they were beginning to induce labor and that it may be a while before the baby would come. Having worked the night before and being awoken in the early afternoon, I needed sleep. The day had been almost unbearable and I wanted rest. I rode the elevator down and passed by the chapel on the way to the exit. Something within me said to turn around and go back, to pray for her. I sat down one row back resting my arms on the back of the pew in front of me. I knew that after all that we had gone through, that I had to forgive her, maybe in increments, but as much as possible as soon as possible. I asked that He provide her with an easy delivery, and that she would not have too much pain. I slipped out of the chapel and made my way to my truck and drove home.
The phone rang around 4 a.m. She was on the end of the line and let me know that the baby had been born about an hour earlier. I made my way up to see her and stayed most of the day. As we danced around the subject of paternity, we asked the doctor for advice. He talked of paternity being made known through blood types and the requirement for mine and the baby’s to match. As God had freed me to love and forgive her, I sensed the need to let her know that He had placed it in my heart to continue to love her and the child, even if he was not mine, placing that option on the table for her as well. I also tried to reach my former best friend and let him know that the child had been born. His mom answered and asked what was going on. I tried to gently tell her about their affair and the predicament that we all had now found ourselves in. His mom said that he had gone to his wife’s house the night before and hadn’t come back yet. I called my mom and let her know all that was going on, and the uncertainty of my paternity. I returned home for the afternoon.
I spent that night with her in the hospital room, taking turns holding the baby. I looked on his face, not knowing if this child was mine or not. The storm of mixed emotions and uncertainties kept me awake all night. The nurses slipped in and out to check on and pick up the baby throughout the night. In the morning, they took him to do some procedural things. I went down for some coffee and stopped in the chapel again, this time asking for His will to be done and to help me accept whatever outcome transpired.
I made my way back upstairs, and as I approached the door to her room, I overheard the nurse give her the baby’s blood type. I can still see her face as her eyes caught mine, and we both knew that it was all over. He was not mine and would never be. But God had led me through the whole crisis, strengthening my faith, and helping me to believe that I was one He could love and forgive. By His work on the cross, I was forgiven and I was now freed to love and forgive others, starting with her….…
I had survived something that was so hard, and I didn’t know what I would have to go through to learn the lessons He wanted to teach me. And as painful as this was, I am glad that I went through it. The rewards have still been coming as I continue to learn to walk with Him….
We had just celebrated our 2nd anniversary, but she still moved out. Not knowing what to do and not sure of who I could trust to talk to, I sat alone and the songs of the time were my escape. Little did I know the roller coaster ride that awaited me for the next year..
He would call and tell me that I needed to check on her relationship with a friend of mine. He would never give me his name, and I only remember telling him that he had it wrong, that they would never do that to me. Doubt was slowly creeping in.
During our separation, she and I would talk on the phone and work on our relationship. The blame was mine, she was not treated the way she should have been, and she would let others know it. I accepted the blame and made a thrust to save our marriage.
Communication improved and she came back home before Thanksgiving. A few days later, she informed me that she was pregnant. I asked her if the baby was mine and she looked shocked and insulted that I would ask. The words had just found their way out before I could even stop them. She said that the baby was mine and wanted to tell the glad news to my parents.
My parents took the news well and the thought of being made grandparents again, but my first, made them very happy. The next few months were some of the happiest times of our marriage, but underneath there was a sense that something was off that I chose to ignore.
I had wanted to paint the room to be used for the nursery, and she was reluctant. My wife, her mom, and her sister would go and shop for baby clothes, accessories and supplies and I was not invited. The time came for her first ultrasound and she did not want me to go. There were nights I would wake up and she was not beside me. I remember riding out early one morning to our little town looking for her. I spotted her car behind a local business. I drove up to the car but she was nowhere to be found. I waited a little while, but she never showed back up. I went back home. When I confronted her about it later, there was a not-so-believable story to cover what had really transpired.
As the due date approached, I felt the need to find a better paying job to support her and our first baby. That way she could stay at home with him. The day I started my new job, I got home and she was gone. There was only a note from her stating that she had some things to think about and wanted some time to do just that. Once again, I was alone, bewildered, and dumbfounded. I was at a loss, because things had been going so well, or so I thought.
I began my job on night shift, but she was not back home yet. A few of my co-workers had found out that she and I were expecting a child. They would ask how things were going, and I would make up whatever I could to cover up.
In the last 6 months, I had celebrated an anniversary with her, been separated from her for 2 months, spent Thanksgiving and Christmas looking forward to the coming arrival, and being kept at arm’s length for things pertaining the baby, including the choice of names for our baby boy soon to arrive. My faith in a God who loved me was feeble at best. I wasn’t sure if I even believed that He could still offer me forgiveness for all that I had done wrong. At this point, I didn’t believe there was anyone who I could talk to about the turmoil. What good was a God who never quite seemed to be as good as people said? Utterly helpless and completely alone, there was nowhere to turn.
I had been out of church for a while, I knew that I couldn’t measure up to God’s standard, and I no longer believed He could truly forgive me for all that I had done. Talk about a rock and a hard place! But I had some friends praying for me. They didn’t know the whole story yet, but could tell that there were things I couldn’t say yet.
I found myself turning the radio dial to preaching and Christian music, I guess looking for something, some sort of comfort there. I had no idea what He was preparing for me, or how much I was going to need Him…
She returned home a few days later. I asked her if she was Ok, and she said yes. I inquired more, but she was not ready to reveal it all just yet…
As I heard pastors teaching through little series on the radio, I found myself drawn to one who was explaining God’s Love and Mercy, and Justice and Wrath. For the first time in my life, I understood that I could truly be forgiven. My soul was awash with this news of His Love and Mercy for me. I was finally free from the crushing weight of my sin, guilt, and shame!
The early Spring evening was heavy with moisture in the air, and the mood in our house was the same. I came into the living room and she was there crying and writing something down. My concern led me to ask if she was OK, and her words were unable to form on her lips. As she handed me the letter, I knew it couldn’t be good. My heart sank as I read her words there.
Finally, the truth had come out, at least in part. This letter stated that she was uncertain if I was the father of the baby growing inside of her. She said she was sorry and that she never meant to hurt me. I quickly formed a plan for us as a couple, informing her that she must tell her mother. I told her that I would hold all that she had said and done inside, so that we could continue on with our marriage if the child was mine. I simply wanted to prepare her mom for what could lie ahead.
The next few months were a flurry of activity, with us taking time for heartfelt discussions and the tension still there of her keeping me at arm’s length and then pulling me in. God was at work too, preparing my heart and cultivating an attitude of forgiveness and grace for others, due to the Mercy I had received from Him.
I woke up to the phone ringing, with her aunt on the other end asking about my wife and the baby. I told her I didn’t know anything. She informed me that my wife, her mom, and her sister had already driven up to the hospital. Sick to my stomach and trying to keep some sense of calm, I clamored to get some clothes on and hop in my truck. As I started to make the trek into the bigger city, still feeling ill from the fact that she had left without me, I had to stop for some stomach-coating medicine. When I arrived, I spotted my friend’s car in the parking lot. Anger’s fire ignited every part of me inside and I was determined to set things straight. There were people who had it coming, but I was too ill to make it to the maternity ward, without stopping again.
I came to the delivery area and was stopped by her mom and sister, who were trying to prevent me from going back to see my wife. As my former best friend made his way out a different way, I was finally allowed to go back and see her. I was angry and told her that I should have been the first one she called because I was her husband. I also let her know that I now knew who it was that she had been unfaithful with. I was in no frame of mind at that time for any further conversing. I left the hospital and drove around the city for what seemed like hours. The steam slowly was wearing off, my prayers were working and thoughts of anger were slowly seeping away. I made my way back to her and the hospital.
She appeared glad to see me, or at least to see me in a calmer mood. She told me that they were beginning to induce labor and that it may be a while before the baby would come. Having worked the night before and being awoken in the early afternoon, I needed sleep. The day had been almost unbearable and I wanted rest. I rode the elevator down and passed by the chapel on the way to the exit. Something within me said to turn around and go back, to pray for her. I sat down one row back resting my arms on the back of the pew in front of me. I knew that after all that we had gone through, that I had to forgive her, maybe in increments, but as much as possible as soon as possible. I asked that He provide her with an easy delivery, and that she would not have too much pain. I slipped out of the chapel and made my way to my truck and drove home.
The phone rang around 4 a.m. She was on the end of the line and let me know that the baby had been born about an hour earlier. I made my way up to see her and stayed most of the day. As we danced around the subject of paternity, we asked the doctor for advice. He talked of paternity being made known through blood types and the requirement for mine and the baby’s to match. As God had freed me to love and forgive her, I sensed the need to let her know that He had placed it in my heart to continue to love her and the child, even if he was not mine, placing that option on the table for her as well. I also tried to reach my former best friend and let him know that the child had been born. His mom answered and asked what was going on. I tried to gently tell her about their affair and the predicament that we all had now found ourselves in. His mom said that he had gone to his wife’s house the night before and hadn’t come back yet. I called my mom and let her know all that was going on, and the uncertainty of my paternity. I returned home for the afternoon.
I spent that night with her in the hospital room, taking turns holding the baby. I looked on his face, not knowing if this child was mine or not. The storm of mixed emotions and uncertainties kept me awake all night. The nurses slipped in and out to check on and pick up the baby throughout the night. In the morning, they took him to do some procedural things. I went down for some coffee and stopped in the chapel again, this time asking for His will to be done and to help me accept whatever outcome transpired.
I made my way back upstairs, and as I approached the door to her room, I overheard the nurse give her the baby’s blood type. I can still see her face as her eyes caught mine, and we both knew that it was all over. He was not mine and would never be. But God had led me through the whole crisis, strengthening my faith, and helping me to believe that I was one He could love and forgive. By His work on the cross, I was forgiven and I was now freed to love and forgive others, starting with her….…
I had survived something that was so hard, and I didn’t know what I would have to go through to learn the lessons He wanted to teach me. And as painful as this was, I am glad that I went through it. The rewards have still been coming as I continue to learn to walk with Him….
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