That familiar guilt would well up inside of me when I saw how tired he was. I would tell him to go take a hot shower and relax, as I tried to make dinner without burning it because I had a fussy toddler on my hip.
Liam was especially clingy with me during his first few years. That's the thing, whenever I tried to hand Liam over to anyone for a break, he would cry and scream until he was back in my arms.
Everyone thought it was so cute, and while there were moments when I did too, I was so touched out by the end of the day. I just wanted someone to hold him so I could getfive minutesof alone time.
Atlas would come in as the fun parent, playing with Liam and distracting him enough so I could have a break and get what I needed done.
That usually meant taking a shower without sitting Liam in his little chair outside the tub, and me checking him everythirty seconds to make sure he was still alive.
My postpartum paranoia was relentless. I would startle awake in the middle of the night, hovering my finger under Liam's little nose to make sure he was breathing.
Atlas did help with night feedings—he'd get up when Liam cried, lift him from the crib, and hand him to me so I could breastfeed. Then he'd lie back down beside us, watching us quietly.
As I fed our son from my body, Atlas would kiss me and whisper how much he loved me. Both of us were so young, barely twenty, just figuring it out, but we were together, and that's all that mattered.
During my hardest times as a young mother, I would think of those tiny moments—the quiet stillness in the middle of the night, surrounded by the two people I loved most, and it would fill me with the strength to keep going.
Those memories are forever etched into my soul.
I learned that you eventually do get into a rhythm, and that happened right before Liam turned two.
Atlas would come home, dinner would be done, and Liam would be napping longer, so I could quickly get the chores done while he was asleep. I finally felt like I had it all together.
That's probably the first time I felt like agoodwife and mother.
Time passed, we lived and loved, but somewhere along the way, even as my life grew bigger, I could feel myself shrinking. I just didn't fully recognize it because being a wife and mother kept me too busy to notice.
Then we moved into the new house that Atlas bought.
Then I got pregnant with Noah.
Going from one child to two was hard, even with Liam being older and more independent. That was heartbreaking enough in its own way, facing the fact that my baby didn't need me as much anymore.
It's strange how you long for that moment, and then when it comes, it aches. Noah demanded so much of me that I didn'thave time to dwell on that hurt, or on anything else, really.
Life became routine, and as the boys grew and developed their own hobbies and interests, I adjusted as needed.
Atlas was always there, always the fun parent and a great dad to our boys. I remember looking at him, thinking about how lucky I was to have a husband who was such an involved father.
Was he involved, or was he just being a father to his kids? Because if I'm honest, when Atlas stepped back this last year, what really changed?
Aside from him no longer sitting beside me at Liam's basketball games or Noah's art shows... not much.
And this isn't only on him.
It's on me, too.
I should have spoken up sooner. I should have recognized what was happening before it got this far. I didn't, because I didn't know something was wrong.
But it's my responsibility to demand better for my kids. I own that, and I'll do better.
That's the entire reason I'm sitting in this office right now.
"I'm sorry, I just..." Imani shakes her head, clearing her throat, professionalism settling back into place. "I see this a lot. It's one of the main reasons women end up sitting in that chair, consulting me."
"No, it's... I'm another one of those women, I guess," I clear my throat. "What are my next steps, Imani?"
"Step one," she says firmly, her voice steady with the kind of confidence that comes from someone who's done this a million times. "We file for legal separation today. This creates enforceable legal boundaries and formally establishes that the marriage, as it currently exists, cannot continue. Like I said, our state requires twelve consecutive months of complete separation before a divorce can be finalized. Once he's served, that clock starts."
