It was a typical Saturday morning, I was cleaning house and my husband Richie was lying on the couch watching television. With excitement in my voice, I was telling him all about my trip to Pigeon Forge the night before. I had driven our three-year old daughter up there for a photo shoot with one of the best photographers in the pageantry business. Since Christmas was only two weeks away, we seen beautiful Christmas lights and decorations throughout the whole city. I enjoyed sharing my experience with Richie because we had been communicating with one another more. It had been seven weeks since the marriage retreat, and although our relationship was far from perfect, it felt as if things were getting better. I noticed little changes that I had made, like when Richie lost his job at ADT, instead of getting upset, I was supportive and told him everything would be ok. Sometimes I would call him during my lunch break or while I was driving just to talk. When I went to the grocery store I made sure to text him and ask if there was anything he needed. Richie had recently taken a very important test and I remember while he was preparing for it he said to me, “Most people fail this test the first time.” I replied with “You’re not most people, you’re Richard Smith.” I wanted him to know that I believed in him and I was trying my best to show it.

As I continued cleaning house and rambling on about Pigeon Forge, I found the unthinkable on my living room floor! An unopened condom was right there before my eyes! I couldn’t believe it! My heart felt like it dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I immediately held it up to him and said “Where did this come from!” Of course he replied with “I don’t know!” He went on to say how it was probably his best friend’s who had visited our house a few times that week. I decided to go in another room because my head was spinning with thoughts. I thought about how we hadn’t had sex in several weeks, how he always slept with his phone so close to him as if he was hiding something, and how even when i dressed up real pretty, he didn’t compliment me like he used to. I messaged my friend and told her what I had found. She told me not to immediately jump to conclusions because after all this wasn’t the first time this had happened. One time before our friend was over and dropped some condoms out of his bag. I wanted to believe Richie but our marriage was so rocky and he had already warned me that if things didn’t get better he would be tempted to cheat. I spoke with the friend that he was referring too and he said, “I do have a hole in my bag, and there is a chance that a condom could have fallen out while I was at your house.” In my mind I wasn’t sure what to believe but I was determined to do whatever it would take to find out the truth.

For the next several nights I tried to get into his phone but I could never figure out the pass code. I tried logging into his Facebook account but I didn’t have any luck with that either. Night after night I felt like a crazy women trying to investigate her husband. I even searched everywhere in the house for more evidence, but there was none. The frustration continued to build up in me until finally I just got so angry that I accused him of everything I could imagine. He was so angry at me for not trusting him that he stated four words that a wife never wants to hear, “I want a separation.” I agreed to it but not because I thought it meant the end for us, but because I thought maybe it could do us some good. We had tried everything else to fix our marriage and nothing worked. I thought perhaps a separation could help us realize just how much we do love one another. So I began my search for an apartment with mixed feelings in my heart and many thoughts running through my head. I wondered if I would ever be happy again, if my kids would suffer, if people at church would judge me, and if financially I could make it on my own. I wasn’t sure what the future held for me and my family, but I had faith that no matter what, God would be right there with me guiding me step by step.

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