When I was seven months pregnant, I packed my things and told my husband our marriage was over. “I’m leaving you, and don’t bother coming to look for me.”

What did he do wrong?

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He cooked breakfast but didn’t serve me. He left the food in the kitchen and asked me to serve myself while he worked on his laptop. I walked past him several times, making faces and noises so he would know I expected him to serve me, but he didn’t pay me any mind. He was so busy on his laptop he didn’t even look at me pacing up and down.

I broke down in tears, went inside, and packed my things to leave. When I told him I was leaving, he looked deep into my eyes and asked, “Are you okay? I mean, is everything alright with you?”

That made me even more furious. “Do you care? You can’t even do a single thing right for me, but you’re the one who put me in this condition. Look at how I’m suffering, but all you do is stay on your laptop all day while I starve. I’m going.”

I was in tears while shouting at him. He looked at me with patience in his eyes. He said, “I’m sorry. I won’t work anymore. Sit down, and let me give you some food.”

I walked out of the hall with my side bag, shouting at him for patronizing me. “This is all you do. Treat me badly and later pretend. I’m tired. I’m leaving.”

He followed me. When he caught up, he said, “Okay, let me help you with your bag. It looks heavy.”

He took the bag from me and followed me. I was sweating. The sun was doing what it does best. We could have taken a taxi, but because I was angry, I walked. When we found a closed store, I stood in front of it to catch my breath and get some shade. He stood by my side, not saying anything. At that moment, I was coming back to my senses. Whatever had come over me was leaving. I asked, “Where can we get a car?” He asked, “To where? Back home?”

I rolled my eyes while he stepped out to get a taxi. We were back home ten minutes later. He took my bag inside, served me, and sat by me, asking how my journey was. “Did you see your mom? How is your father?”

We burst out laughing. “You think it’s a joke. The next time I leave, it’s going to be forever.”

I don’t know what was happening to me, but I hated everything he did when my pregnancy was at that stage. He could pull a duvet over me because I was feeling cold, and I would tell him, “Why are you acting like I’m a baby? Did I tell you I was feeling cold?”

When he came home late, I would lock the door and ask him to go back to where he was coming from. I remember I called his mom one late night, crying on the phone and telling her everything he was doing wrong in our lives. He was right next to me. When his mom asked me to give him the phone, she asked, “Why are you treating your wife this way? Don’t you know she’s pregnant?” He answered, “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. She’s right. I’ll do better.”

I was waiting to pounce on him if he said anything to the contrary, but when he said he was sorry, my heart calmed. I started feeling a warmth like the first time I fell in love. All the complaints I made to his mom were lies born out of frustration, but he didn’t defend himself. Months later, when we were talking about it, he told me, “I knew you were going to fight, so I had to accept everything you said.”

His mom came to live with us for three days to correct mistakes that never existed all because I was going through pregnancy blues.

The night before I delivered, we had a huge fight. I packed to leave again. He wouldn’t let me leave, so I went outside and sat on a stone by the roadside. It was around 11 p.m. He came to beg me to come inside, but I wouldn’t listen, so he sat on the floor next to me, swatting mosquitoes away from me.

Around 12 a.m., I started feeling pain in my abdomen. I forgot about the fight and leaned on him, gnashing my teeth. He said, “Should I take you home?” I answered, “Leave me here to die, you wicked man. I regret the day I married you.”

He took me to the hospital, and I had a daughter a few hours later. He was with me through it all, holding my hand, though his face made me angry. I think it was through that anger at his face that I was able to push hard for the baby to come out.

I gave him hell, but surprisingly, he was calm through it all. When I pushed him away, he opened his arms for me to fall into. It was our first child, but he behaved as if he had gone through that phase of life before. If I didn’t know what love was, those moments when I turned tyrant showed me how love responds to tyrants.

The second pregnancy was calm, but even then, I had to fake a fight to get his attention. He knew I was faking it, but he responded with real love and deeper attention. To me, we’ve experienced lots of love from dating to marriage, but those periods when I was pregnant showed me another angle of love from a husband. If you ask me the moment I felt loved, I will always point to those days. It was a beautiful chaos because I had a husband like him.
#MomentYouFeltLoved

—Julianna

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