Nausea Flashbacks

I was sick with a stomach virus for a week, a few months ago. Lying in bed with waves of nausea washing over me brought flashbacks.

(Content warning: may be triggering for rape and abuse survivors.)

 . . .

I was pregnant with N, our 4th child.

I was having severe,  near-constant morning sickness,  on top of the pain and fatigue of my serious chronic health issues.

My husband was feeling neglected.

He didn't want to be the one to initiate sex,  because he didn't want me to feel that I couldn't say no (I virtually never said no), but if he initiated and I wasn't enthusiastic about it he would be crushed.

If we even so much as hugged and kissed and I was responsive to him (i.e. hugged and kissed him back other than very briefly and dispassionately), he would feel that it was unfair of me and I was giving mixed messages if it didn't go all the way to completed sex.  Then he would pout and withdraw and be angry at him for getting him aroused and not following through after making him want it.

But he knew that wasn't healthy or fair to me.

So his solution was to make me responsible for initiating,  and then pout and withdraw and feel victimized and deprived or passive-aggressively punish me in some way if I didn't initiate often enough or passionately enough.

My suggested solution was to schedule it on a regular basis. So we tried that.

I remember lying in bed being so sick with morning sickness that most of my energy was going to concentrating on trying not to throw up on him,  but trying to smile and be positive and responsive and pretend to be enjoying it for his sake.

It seemed to take forever. Lying in bed,  nauseated,  trying not to throw up,  but trying to swallow my discomfort and make him feel loved and paid attention to while he did his thing.

I got through it,  but then as soon as he finished I had to run to the bathroom, barely making it in time to throw up in the toilet.

I apologized,  and felt bad. It wasn't like I had much control over my urge to vomit.

He acted hurt, crushed and rejected. He withdrew, got quiet and resentful, and then accused me of not loving him and not making our marriage and intimate relationship a priority in my life.

My being willing to try to please him and the fact that I almost never said no and even made the effort to initiate and schedule sex was essentially worthless to him--what he wanted was for me to passionately and enthusiastically desire him,  to lust after him and be carried to heights of rapture by him. And my not doing so often enough or eagerly enough--well,  that was clearly a failure on my part. I was wronging him.

The fact that I didn't passionately desire and enjoy sex while having severe morning sickness and trying not to throw up was a personal affront to him. He felt insulted, mistreated and neglected.

He went into full martyr mode. Because of my being willing to have sex despite not feeling well,  but not being adequately enthusiastic and burning with desire for him.

His desire and need was not just to have a wife who was willing to have sex even when she was sick,  but to have a wife who passionately lusted after and desired him and was fully engaged with and focused on him and was truly satisfied and delighted by his performance even when she was sick.

When he didn't feel I was adequately meeting his needs in the bedroom or I did not perform to his satisfaction when we did have sex, he would mope so dramatically that he would literally lay his head down on the table at family dinner, and refuse to speak to me or the kids. Or he would leave the table early and sit in the dark living room adjoining,  with his head in his hands, sighing heavily. For days at a time, sometimes weeks.

He always made sure the kids knew that Mommy had done something to make Daddy sad. So they would blame me for being mean to their dad and making him sad.

Even though I virtually never said no.

I tried to please him. I tried so hard. But it was not good enough.

The kids'/guest bathroom at 12:27PM, with a party scheduled to start at 1PM.

Different Views

DH's idea of, "The kitchen is pretty much ready for the cleaners, but the rest of the house might still need some work." (Actually, I'd already spent quite a bit of time picking up after he said this but before these pictures were taken, so it was not this clean when he said it.):





I didn't get a picture of the stuff he had piled in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, where it was "out of the way" (and also blocking access to the dining room, the microwave, and part of the kitchen floor).


My idea of "the kitchen is almost ready for the cleaners--not perfect, but I suppose it'll have to do":





I love my hubby dearly, really I do . . . and the man works very hard. But sometimes we just don't see things the same way.