To him:
Tonight our youngest child is sick. He's running a fever and vomiting. This is only the third time he's ever had this happen. The second time was the day you walked out on us.
This time is different though. This time, there is no one here to complain and be mean because there is a sick child sleeping in our bedroom. This time I can get up as often as I need to for water, napkins, tylenol, cool wash clothes, etc and not worry that I'm going to get yelled at. I can rock my child in the rocking chair and not have to hear you complain about how the squeaking of the chair bothers you. I can set the alarm for every so many hours so that I can administer medication and know that I won't have to put up with doors being slammed or fist punched through walls.
You complained often about the "burdens" of having children. Tonight I've cleaned up vomit three times. I've checked temps 4 times. I've made two bottles of apple juice. I've rubbed his back, rocked him, and held him more then I can count. Yet, none of this has been a burden. Instead, it's a blessing.
Maybe one day you'll be able to see that as well.
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