My boyfriend and I go way back, like ten years ago. Five years ago, we started dating. A year after dating, he took me home to see his parents, and I did the same too. So our relationship from the beginning wasn’t something we were hiding. We knew we wanted to get married to each other.

And he had two kids that I was willing to accept no matter what. As time went on, I’d get introduced to the kids and slowly come to love them as mine. Two years into dating, his baby mama passed away. A year after the death of their mother, my boyfriend, Dan, asked if I wanted the privilege of adopting those kids as mine. I nodded in excitement. Yes, they wouldn’t be mine biologically, but nothing could fill the motherly instinct that was already kicking in.

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I have a serious case of PCOS. I have had three surgeries over the past eight years. I go through constant pain, and sometimes I’m admitted to the hospital for weeks. I’ve been told by my doctors that I won’t be able to carry my own child, not even through IVF, unless it is through a surrogate, or through a miracle, as long as God is in the miracle business.

When he was told about that, he started looking for agencies that could help me have a surrogate carry a pregnancy. Pregnancy is very, very complicated. People give birth and they die, so I kick against it. If I can’t have my own kids and carry them for nine months, I don’t want it. I told him, “If you want more kids, we can go our separate ways so you can have kids with another woman. But I wouldn’t want a surrogate.” He said, “I was doing that for you, and if you don’t want any more kids, if you do not want to go through that phase, it is fine.”

I went on to traditionally adopted the kids as mine, and we are a big happy family. We have a routine. Their dad takes them to school, and I go and bring them back home. I promise you, they love spending so much time with him, just as I love spending time with them.

When we started dating, my boyfriend wasn’t financially stable, so I carried most of the weight. But two years ago, things have been really, really good for him. He carries most of the weight. I have been really sick for some time now and he does it all. The countless medications, my hospital fees. My rent, groceries in my house.

I am preparing for a fourth surgery, a very complicated one that costs a lot of money, and he has made a deposit for my surgery. He is an amazing boyfriend and father too.

But six months ago, everything changed. He works from home twice a week, and anytime he works from home and I’m home, he comes and spends the whole day with me in my house.

That day, after a meeting, he went to the bedroom to rest. The laptop was on, with his WhatsApp opened, so I pulled a chair for myself at the table and tried to see what he was up to.

There was a message with one particular girl. There were threads of messages of them talking about sex. It wasn’t detailed enough to know if they had met and actually been intimate, but I know there have been meetings, though I can’t prove it.

I’m very quick-tempered, and I’m working on my temper, and he knows it. That day, I didn’t know I could be this calm. I took a walk to cool down and then sent him a video of the chats I took while scrolling through his messages.

He insisted that it was not his own doing, “There is a context. I will explain. Don’t misunderstand the things happening here. I have a problem.” I asked, “What context? Is it for an interview? Is it a questionnaire? What? There have been sexual chats in your messages. So tell me, where is the context? Which part of the message don’t I understand?”

The next morning, after dropping the kids off at school, he was at my house. He still insisted on what he said the day before, that he has a problem. I don’t know what that is. Apparently, he has been in therapy to help him deal with the so-called problem. At the end of the discussion, I agreed to see the therapist with him.

I insisted that he get tested, and he was diagnosed clean. We both did the tests twice, and thankfully, we are clean as a whistle.

We have been in six therapy sessions so far. On the fourth session, he sort of made a promise to compensate me. “You have been good to me, and you don’t deserve to go through such a thing. You don’t deserve to see me entertaining other women romantically,” he said.

He said he was going to give me seed capital. I’ve always wanted to own a business. I’m a pharmacist, and I’ve always wanted to own my own pharmacy. Though I have a good job, I have two jobs, actually. I still want to own mine so I can work for myself.

The plan was already there to own a pharmacy, but it was going to be owned by both of us. But this time, he said he’s opening one for me as compensation, and then we would open another one that would carry both of our names on the business.

I have agreed to be compensated. I haven’t made a decision yet. I’ve been asked to take it slow, one day at a time, and see what God has in store for us. There are kids involved. Though they are not my biological kids, they are lawfully mine, and I love them, and they love me. I’m still praying to God to help me make the right decision and see what He has in store for us.

He is building our dream home. He has contracted an interior designer to decorate the house, and he has left it in my hands to design it according to my preference, one that suits the whole family we were planning on becoming someday. The plan was to complete the house and get our business idea started before tying the knot. Since reading that message on his phone, I haven’t honoured the second appointment with the interior decorators.

Mostly because I have lost interest in the relationship. The only interest I have in the relationship now is the kids, and it’s been difficult.

Adding these thoughts and struggles to the functional depression I have been fighting because of my rare symptoms with PCOS makes it gruesome. Already, I was seeing a therapist whose job was to help me sleep properly and counsel me through my depression.

Nobody knows of it, so it is even hard to talk about it with someone. I go to bed and lie on my bed and think. I ask myself, what decision can I make? Can he change? Do cheaters change? Can he change? Can he make it right?

Is There A Man Out There Who Doesn’t Cheat?

He said he doesn’t want a polygamous family. If he wants it, he can have it. I will just disappear from his life and let him have it. He says no, so I don’t know. I don’t know, and I am just praying to God to help me make a decision that will help me and my kids.

And if you read the story and conclude his money is what is keeping me here, then surely you have not been between rocks and hard places. I am at that place and it is difficult to decide

— Debby

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