When I got sick, I finally experience a dark side to my husband that I didn’t like. He abandoned me and our newborn baby because he didn’t want to step up and be a good father and husband, so I played along. But I came out on top!
I’m 30, married to a man named Drew who’s 33, and we have a six-month-old baby girl named Sadie. But suddenly, all of that was just a minor inconvenience to my husband when I got sick.
This all happened about a month ago. I’d caught some brutal virus. Not COVID-19, not RSV, but something roughly. The worst part? Sadie had just gotten over a cold herself, so I was already drained.
At this point, I was sleep-deprived, sick, and trying to take care of a baby who was still clingy from her own recovery. Strangely, Drew had been acting strange for weeks, even before I got sick.
He was isolated.
Always on his phone, chuckling at things he wouldn’t share. When I’d ask what was so funny, he’d just shrug and say, “It’s work stuff.”
My husband also commented: “You always seem exhausted,” he said one night while I rocked Sadie in my arms and tried to suppress a cough.
“Well, yeah, duh. I’m raising a human,” I replied with a tinge of annoyance.
I hoped he’d see me struggling and finally step up. Pick up the slack. Be the man I married.
The night my fever hit 102.4, I could barely sit up! I looked at him and, with all the strength I could muster, I whispered, “Can you please take Sadie? I just need to lie down for 20 minutes.”
He didn’t even blink. “I can’t. Your cough is keeping me up. I NEED SLEEP. I think I’m gonna stay at my mom’s for a few nights.”
He didn’t even bother asking how Sadie would be taken care of while I could hardly stand!
“You’re seriously leaving me here sick and alone with the baby?” I had texted.
“You’re the mom. You know how to handle this stuff better than me. I’d just get in the way. Plus, I’m exhausted and your cough is unbearable.”
FINE!
I somehow made it through the weekend. I barely ate. I cried in the shower when Sadie finally napped.
So I did.
I started devising my plan. I figured if he thought being sick and then abandoned wasn’t a big deal, I was going to give him an idea of what it felt like.
So a week later, I texted him.
“Hey babe. I’m feeling much better now. You can come home.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Thank God! I’ve barely slept here. Mom’s dog snores and she keeps asking me to help with yard work.”
Yard work. Poor baby. Imagine that.
When he walked in, he looked around like everything was back to normal.
A few minutes into his relaxation time, I finally struck!
“Hey,” I said sweetly, “Can you hold Sadie for a sec? I need to grab something upstairs.”
“Sure,”
I came down five minutes later with my small suitcase and my car keys. Sadie was smiling and babbling in his lap.
Noticing the movement, he blinked. “What’s that?”
“I booked a weekend spa retreat,” I said, calm as can be. “Massage, facial, room service. I just need some rest.”
He sat up, confused. “Wait, you’re going now?!”
“Yep. Just two nights. I left instructions. Bottles are labeled and her toys are there. Diapers and wipes are stocked. Emergency numbers are on the fridge. I got lots of groceries. Everything’s good. Unlike you, I actually planned ahead for you. Besides, you’re the dad. You know how to handle this stuff.”
“Claire, I don’t know what to—” he started.
I raised a hand. “No, no. Your words last week, remember? ‘You’re the mom. You know how to handle this stuff better than me.’ Now it’s your turn.”
And then I walked out. I drove 45 minutes to a beautiful, tranquil, and quiet little inn with a spa and free chocolate chip cookies in the lobby.
That day, I rejected to answer any calls or texts.
Instead, I had a 90-minute massage, took naps, read by the fireplace, got a pedicure, and watched trashy reality shows in a fluffy robe. Bliss!
He did call twice. Left two voicemails. One was mild panic. The other was an attempt to guilt-trip me.
“Claire, Sadie won’t nap. I don’t know how you do this. She spit up on me twice. Please call back.”
I didn’t.
But I did FaceTime that evening because, despite everything, I missed my daughter, and unlike him, I still really loved him.
Sunday evening, I came home to a war zone! Toys everywhere.
Drew just looked at me like he was seeing a goddess with infinite powers—exhausted and ashamed.
“I get it now,” he whispered. “I really do.”
“Do you?” I asked.
He nodded. “I messed up.”
But it was a list. A schedule. Morning duties, nighttime feedings, grocery runs, laundry, baths. His name was next to half of them.
“You don’t get to tap out anymore,” I told him. “I need a partner. Not a third child.”
He nodded, slowly. “Okay. I’m in.”
After this day, he has been trying such as waking up when baby cries at night, making bottles and changing diaper!!
But I’m not stupid. I’m not rushing to forgive him. I’m still watching. Still deciding.
