DIVORCE | FUTURE

My Mind’s Eye Saw The New Wife Before I Knew She Was Coming

My clarity spooks even me at times.

This is a true story in which none of the names have been changed to protect the innocent. At this point in life, does it really matter?

I was 4 months pregnant with my first child.

Wait.

First, let me fill in the back story of how I am programmed.

It’s important to know that I talk in my sleep.

Once Upon a Time

Growing up, my conversations and one-liners, while dead to the world, brought about great conversations and many laughs at my expense. I didn’t mind. It always intrigued me that I would have no memory of said events. One of the family classics told for years at any holiday dinner was when my mom checked in on me, just a young girl, to see if I was sleeping.

She was greeted with the vision of my butt sticking up and out, head deep under the covers, all backward in positioning. She asked what I was doing. I clearly stated that I was “looking for the pocket of my skirt.”

I have no idea why, either, and I can feel your eyebrows knitting at this statement. Trust me, there is no hidden meaning to be found.

My habit was to speak clearly and with conviction. I did not mumble and therefore tended to confuse a listener who was not yet familiar with how I operated.

I made this facet of my makeup very clear to my husband shortly after marriage.

Somehow, through the 25 years we were together, he never understood that I had zero knowledge of what I may utter at night. Many a morning, I was met with an icy reception. I would have to play detective to discover that he was mad at me for something I said in the darkness. His anger would dissipate in direct proportion to his willingness to let go.

And, so it was that I said one thing so traumatic that we talked about it for years.

Years.

The Fairy Tale Story Continues

I was 4 months pregnant with my first child.

We had a year and a half under our belts which gave plenty of time for him, in my mind, to understand and accept my nighttime utterances.

In the dark of night, I shot up in bed and said one word.

“Marta.”

I said it so loud and clear that it woke both of us up. We looked at each other, and I meekly apologized.

In the morning, I tiptoed around his clenched jaw. I waited until we had passed his required, “don’t talk to me until I’ve had at least 2 cups of coffee rule,” to ask him if everything was okay.

“We are not naming the baby Marta if it’s a girl.”

I replied that it wasn’t even on my radar. I had no intention of naming the baby Marta. I continued to reassure him that I didn’t know why I said that name. It had nothing to do with naming our baby.

He continued to maintain that I said it for a reason, though. Again and again, I had to listen to his distress about this name.

His side-eye, combined with that all-knowing nod, told me he was on the alert if I would ever try to slip it into our list of choices. I seriously had no ulterior motive, but he wasn’t buying it.

I delivered a healthy and beautiful baby girl who we named Samantha.

For years, though, we talked about how her father thought I wanted to name her Marta. He laughed, and we all laughed, but deep down, I believed he felt proud of his success in shutting down my ploy that never existed.

If you run into my daughter today, ask her what she was almost named. She won’t hesitate to respond.

Fast forward to one week before our 26th wedding anniversary, the week in which our divorce was finalized.

The oldest of our three kids, Samantha, was soon to be 25 years old.

The divorce occurred in early September and shortly before my birthday. And when I saw my ex was calling, I was slightly pleased that he would reach out after months of not, wishing me a Happy Birthday. It was a step in the right direction and his anger must have subsided a bit. It had been my life goal and strong hope that we could all embrace this new healthier road.

Nope.

The call was to give me a head’s up that we may run into each other in our small town. He didn’t want me to be shocked that he wouldn’t be alone. I did remark how it had only been 12 days since our divorce. I was amazed that he found a girlfriend already. I was genuinely happy for him and said as much.

His terse reply was that he had been seeing her for a while. Still, I was happy because moving on was needed.

I wondered if she was someone I knew. I innocently asked her name.

Silence.

I waited.

He quietly said, “Marta.”

I burst out laughing and said, “My God, how did I know she was coming 25 years ago? I am amazing!”

We must have lost our phone connection. You know how tricky cell service can be.

Happily Ever After

They marry next month, and it’s like the gift that keeps on giving.

Every time I say her name, I smile.

Read about our first meeting!

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