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The only thing that’s missing is my husband. He’s here, but he’s not. He works long hours, which adds to it all. I miss him. Physically miss him. And he’s right here. Some weeks it feels more like we’re roommates than husband and wife.
I’m surrounded by humans, small ones who dictate my every hour of the day, and yet, I feel so lonely sometimes it hurts. Just the thought of saying that, admitting that out loud, makes me cry. I’m lonely, and I want a break. I need a break.
My hand goes to my mouth to hold in the sob that’s threatening to escape. I feel so selfish for thinking that. But I’m so tired. I need a day to refresh myself so that I can be the best me for my family. That’s not bad, right?
I sniff, grabbing a tissue off the nightstand to wipe away the selfishness seeping from me.
“Are you crying?” I jump, hearing Nolan’s question. I didn’t hear him come home.
“Maybe,” I admit, even though I don’t want to.
Sitting down next to me, he takes my hand in his. I look up at this handsome man I married. He’s hardly changed over the years. The brown curls he cuts short are styled to perfection. His striking blue eyes are framed by black frames, making them stand out more. His perfect lips that I haven’t kissed in too long. And don’t get me started on his still-chiseled body that I don’t deserve.
“What’s wrong?” he urges, swiping away the wetness my tears left on my cheeks.
“This isn’t working,” I say and then see panic flash in his eyes, realizing how that sounded. “No, not like that. I’m sorry. I’m tired, and I’m not making sense.”
“Talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind,” he tries to soothe me, rubbing my back. “What’s upsetting you?”
“Look at me, Nolan. This is not who you married. I love you and the kids with everything inside me, but I’m drowning. I’m exhausted, I haven’t had a shower that’s lasted more than two minutes in weeks, and I’m losing sight of myself,” I confess with a hand on my chest. It physically hurts to admit that I’m failing.
“So, go shower now.” He says it so simply, like it never occurred to me.
Tipping my head back, I sigh. “You don’t get it. You get to go to work and have adult conversations each day. You get a full night’s sleep while I’m up with the kids at all hours. You go to the gym, you get away, you get to be your perfect self while I feel myself withering away.”
“So, you want a job?” he asks, looking confused. I let out a groan of frustration.
“No! I just need a break!”
“A break like what? From me? From the kids? From everything? I don’t understand what you want.” He’s getting agitated, and I know he has every right to feel that way, but it still pisses me off that he doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see me right now.
“Yes,” I state simply. “I feel selfish for asking, but I need time to myself. A day or two each week to be me. To grocery shop by myself if I want or go to the gym or just sit and stare at nothing or take a nap. But I need to be able to do it all while feeling human and like myself again.” I drop my face into my hands.
Am I a terrible person—a terrible mom—for asking this? I should want to be with my kids every second I can. Right? I mean, that’s what parents want to do… But why do I feel like I’m losing my mind?
He nods his head while studying me. “Okay.”
“Okay? Just like that? Okay?”
“Yes, Stella. Do you really think I’m that much of an ass that I don’t see everything you do for our family? For me? I never asked because you seem like you enjoy it all. But, babe, I’d be dead if I did everything you do.” His hand rubs in circles on my back, and I close my eyes for a slow second. “How about we get someone to help once a week during the day and one night a month so you can stay at a hotel to get a full night's sleep?”
“That sounds like heaven,” I cry. “Thank you.” I fling myself into him and hug him tightly as tears fill my eyes again.
“All you ever had to do was ask, Stell. I’m capable of helping you, and if not, I make enough money to pay someone else to,” he jokes.
“I just… I didn’t want you to think I was a failure or a bad mom. I feel selfish for asking for any of it.”
Pushing my hair out of my face, he smiles at me. “You aren’t any of those things. You are a great mom and the furthest thing from a failure. If anyone is selfish here, it’s me. I should have offered to help more. I’m sorry I haven’t.”
“I don’t blame you. I wanted this—to be a mom. I still do. I just need help, and it’s really hard to ask for it.”
He pulls me against him, his big hand running up and down my spine as he holds me. “I love you, Stella. I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“Alright then. I’ll make some calls tomorrow, and we’ll figure it all out. I promise.” He kisses the top of my head, and I smile against his chest. It’s the closest we’ve been in a long time.
“I love you, Nolan.”
