All That I Need (Secret Desires) Page 3

“This is more than I wanted. I didn’t bargain for this,” I cried into the phone. “It’s not fair! I sent him away as one person, and he came home another. He was fine for a while, but it just keeps getting worse. I thought time would help, but it’s not improving – not fast enough.”

  “He’s talking to somebody finally, getting help, that’s something, right?”

  “I guess,” I said rubbing my swollen belly. “The baby is coming soon, and I’m worried. I’m not sure how we’re going to get through this. I need him to be present, and he’s despondent, detached a lot of the time, and the nightmares…” I trailed off.

  “Kate, give him time. He went through a lot over there, but he’s home now. He needs to heal. The fact that he agreed to get help says a lot. He wants to get better.”

  “He’s going to be a father, and I just don’t know if he can handle that right now.”

  “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder isn’t going to be fixed overnight,” she gently reminded. “Give him the time that he needs, it will get better. He loves you so much, Katie.”

  “I know, Mom, I’m just scared. What if he doesn’t get better?”

  It wasn’t my proudest moment, but it felt good to let go of all the feelings I’d been harnessing. I knew it would be all right, it had to be, right?

  Chapter Five

  I was so proud of Austin when he finally embraced counseling. He was afraid it made him weak, but put his pride aside for the chance to heal. He would be a father soon, and wanted his life back. There were medications that helped in some aspects, but there were also side effects, and if he wanted to be romantic, let’s just say the medication made things “challenging” at times.

  I took it for what it is, and gladly gave up intimate moments that included intercourse to see him reaching out for help.

  Austin was learning coping skills, and realized the tighter he held onto thoughts, the worse it was for him. For him to let them go, he had to release them. He grounded himself with a token in his pocket, and we kept social interactions to a minimum until he was comfortable.

  There was a lot of give and take, trying to understand what he was going through. His mind was fractured in little pieces, and he was trying to rebuild it. We learned that some soldiers don’t experience PTSD for months or years, but an incident may set them off. In his case, losing his dear friend seemed to trigger him.

  As my body continued to change and it got closer to my due date, I felt more hopeful. Austin’s quality of life was improving, and he was discovering that even in tough times I’d stay by his side. He grew to fully trust me again, and while he felt badly that he’d mistrusted me for a while, it was explained as being common for bonds to be tested in circumstances of PTSD. In his head, everyone had the potential to hurt him, and his mind became a closely guarded fortress.

  It would be a slow journey. I wish I could tell you it only took a couple of weeks, but I’d be lying. He gains a little bit of himself back each month, and I feel hopeful that if he stays the course he’ll get past this.

  It was a rainy evening, and I’d been feeling unsettled. I finally fell asleep after tossing and turning for hours, not long after my water broke.

  Rolling over, “Austin, I think it’s time.” With that a contraction gripped me. “Oh yeah, it’s time.”

  He was groggy, but aware. “Okay, let’s go.” He sat up slowly, and got his bearings about him.

  I waddled to the bathroom to quickly clean up as Austin grabbed my overnight bag. We made our way to the hospital. Hospitals…he didn’t like hospitals. I didn’t know if he’d go in. He avoided most of my doctor visits during the pregnancy, and now was the moment of truth. A piece of me wished I was brave enough to have a home birth, but I was desperate for a nerve block to ease any pain.

  As we pulled up, he helped me to the door and said he’d be in shortly. I didn’t know if they were just words, or if he’d actually walk through the doors. A nurse came out with a wheelchair and started me towards the maternity ward. My doctor had been called and would check my progress as the night wore on. I’d been warned a first pregnancy can be a long labor process.

  I put it out of my mind that Austin wasn’t by my side yet, and wondered if I should call somebody to be with me. I hoped Austin would push through in the moment, and make it into the hospital, but it didn’t look that way.

  I felt desperately alone. When I looked up, he was holding tight to the doorframe of my room. “I’m trying,” he grimaced. “It’s just taking longer than I thought it would.”

  My face lit up, my husband would be by my side after all. I smiled at Austin, and welcomed him to my room. “It won’t be long now,” I said between contractions. “Could I get your hand?”

  Austin took a deep breath and walked over. Just as the next contraction rolled through, I gripped his hand with a force that can only be described as crushing. The wave of squeezing overwhelmed me, and then subsided like nothing happened.

  “You’ve got quite a grip,” he said, realizing his hand might take a beating through these next few contractions.

  “I can get a nerve block soon,” I panted. “Just a few more centimeters to go,” I warned. Pointing to the monitor, I showed him what the contractions looked like, so he could prepare himself.

  I was so happy Austin was by my side and would see our child coming into the world. I hoped he could hold out and stay. I knew it was a lot for him to be here, and tried to remind myself he might have to leave.

  “I’ll call everyone later,” he said. “It’s late. We’ll let them know in the morning.”

  “Sounds like a plan. As long as I have you with me, I’ll be fine.”

  As the next contraction hit, I squeezed his hand tightly. “Thanks for being here.”

  He nodded.

  The doctor came in, and I was ready for the news. I should be able to get my Epidural soon enough. Only, from his angle, it looked like things were progressing faster than he anticipated.

  “Well, you have a choice, you can skip the nerve block and push, or you can get it and wait a bit.”

  My eyes shot open. The urge to push was getting stronger, but I was terrified of the pain. Austin squeezed my hand, “You can do this, you’re strong.”

  I was in a panic; this wasn’t how we planned it. I was going to be numbed, and now nature was moving too fast. The decision was made for me, when an intense sensation rolled through me, and the urge to push overwhelmed me.

  “Let’s do this,” I said, terrified.

  The doctor smiled, and guided me through the process as I began pushing.

  I’m not going to lie, it hurt like hell, but once his head and shoulders were out, the worst was over. I was amazed, we had a boy! We decided to keep it a surprise, and here we were.

  A nurse handed my son to me, and I started to cry. He was real, he was here, and he was ours. I ran my finger over his tiny hand. With a little crop of dark hair, his pink little face adjusted to the lights around him. He was perfect in every way.

  Ryan Michael Sharpe joined our family that day, and as we admired our precious newborn, we both realized how special this moment was. I couldn’t stop looking at his tiny fingers, and his little button nose. After a few minutes, a nurse lifted him off of me, so they could clean him up.

  Soon they were moving me to another room to free this one up for deliveries. As I settled in, Austin looked at me with love in his eyes, “That was amazing,” he cooed, and stroked my hand.

  “You should sleep,” I suggested, and desperately wanted to myself. I was so tired.

  “Don’t worry about me, Mama, you close your eyes for a while. They said they’d bring him in later for a feeding, but rest while you can.”

  I smiled and closed my eyes, nodding off. It didn’t take long.

  Austin made sure to call our folks and friends, telling them the news. I spent most of the day between snuggling and feeding Ryan, and stealing cat naps when I could.

  When we finally headed back home, I was ready for the co
mfort of my own bed, and the familiarity of our house. Nervous and excited, we started our journey together as a family.

  During the course of that first week, people dropped by to meet our new son, and offer prepped meals to help out. It was fun and fascinating to see all the interactions. I enjoyed every single visit, except for one.

  It was his mother. She forged ahead telling me how to do things, what I was doing wrong, and how to do things better. She micro-managed every tiny detail of that visit, she was so overbearing. I couldn’t wait for her to leave, but I held a smile on my face for Austin’s sake.

  Austin did pretty well with the visits. It was the most socializing he’d done in ages, but when he had Ryan by his side, it’s like he was on duty to protect him and gave him purpose. Suddenly his world shifted, and a baby offered him focus.

  I’d watch him quietly sing to Ryan, cooing softly, and keeping him close. It was quite possibly the most tender, beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed. I fell back in love with Austin all over again watching him interact with our son. It’s not that I’d fallen out of love with him, but we lost some of our magic.

  I was thrilled to see Austin with Ryan, and he was a huge help. We just had one major discussion to get through, and that was his future. He’d chosen to take a locksmith course, but he didn’t put it in motion. He just knew what he’d decided on… but he was still without a job, and it was putting a strain on our finances.

  It was time for him to move forward, and I hoped his intense need to provide for and protect Ryan would inspire him to get out there.

  Chapter Six

  I braced for an argument, knowing it was a touchy topic. I was pleased that Austin was making progress with his counseling and medication, though he talked about stopping time to time. He felt he was ready, but I was afraid he’d backslide. I’ll be honest, I don’t think he trusted his counselor, but not in the way you or I would decide not to, it was just something inside of him he had to work on.

  At first I suggested he choose another therapist, but then I realized it wasn’t really about the particular person he was working with, but more of a general distrust of the mental health profession. He knew he was healing, but always wondered what they were writing, and who would be privy to the information.

  He hated that it was so open ended, and wanted to know it would end sooner than later. He was slowly piecing himself back together, but felt like he could do it on his own. Somehow, I convinced him to stay with it just a little longer.

  Austin went through a cycle of relentless self-loathing and withdrawing, and then would pull himself out of it for a while. It seemed to improve after Ryan was born, so I hoped our son would keep him in the present, rather than reliving the past over and over in his brain. He couldn’t undo or un-see the things that had happened, but he could make new, better memories.

  With high levels of stress hormones going through him, his body suffered over time. The meds seemed to help him, and he was learning new coping skills, and I was afraid if he stopped counseling he’d backslide again. We were about to learn about other medication side effects. We hadn’t been romantic in ages, and as our connection grew, something else didn’t.

  Erectile dysfunction threw us a curve ball, a side effect neither of us had paid much attention to, since sex was a rare event these days. As the weeks passed, and I was allowed to have intercourse again, we discovered things weren’t working how they once were.

  I understood, but Austin was shattered. He wanted to get off the medication immediately, realizing it was the reason for his lack of…well, you know. He felt like less of a man. He was depressed. It didn’t matter that he knew it was the medication; all he cared about was that he couldn’t perform. We were intimate in other ways, but it wasn’t enough in his eyes. The only problem was that going off the medication could change his stability.

  It was the first time we’d actually wanted to be together, only nothing happened. We figured it would just take a little warm up, a little foreplay, but still nothing. I mean, it got semi-hard but couldn’t reach its former glory, and left Austin feeling embarrassed. There would be no penetration, no intercourse, and rather than enjoying each other how we could, he turned away in frustration.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the situation. Not at Austin, mind you, but at the fact that we’d finally gotten over the huge hurdle of his mental state. After my giving birth, I’d been given the green light to have sex again, and yet we couldn’t. It was one thing after another, it didn’t seem fair.

  Just as Austin was about to get back out there, about to take his locksmith courses, he sank into a depression again and put it off.

  I didn’t know what to do. While he was able to stay home with Ryan, with my maternity leave being over, we couldn’t afford this option. The baby brought new expenses, and we needed money, plain and simple.

  When he suggested borrowing money from his folks, I lost it. I wanted nothing from his mother, and knew it would be something she’d hold over us. Nothing was ever easy with her. Only Austin had other ideas, and saw it as a buffer, a temporary cushion that would ease our financial stress until he found work again – so he took it anyway.

  I was appalled and hurt that he made the decision without me, and once again another crack started to form between us. He meant well, wanting to lessen the strain our money struggles were causing, but in return it felt like he made a deal with the devil. Okay, so maybe that’s a little harsh, but she certainly wouldn’t make it easy on us.

  There were terms that went along with the money of course, and she wanted more and more input in our lives. She ruffled my feathers every chance she got, letting me know she could do better, or that I wasn’t good enough for her son. At least she was partial to Austin and Ryan, because so help me God if she pushed that crap on my son, I’d take her out.

  Austin finally made arrangements to take his courses, so he could apprenticeship as a locksmith. We had to work around my work schedule, and Heather helped us fill in the gaps, now that she was home raising her daughter. Twice a week, I dropped off Ryan on the way to work, and Austin would pick him up on his way back home from his classes.

  I was grateful for Heather at that point, because we desperately needed Austin to get his career in motion.

  Aside from the sexual tension, the money his folks gave to us really did ease some of the stress and we fought less about finances. We pretended like his erectile dysfunction wasn’t a big deal, and we avoided talk about the bedroom every chance we got…but I was lonely and missed being touched. He wouldn’t even try anymore, for fear of it continuing to happen. It was easier to shut down and push me away, then to reach out and feel like less of a man.

  I usually hid my feelings well, telling him it wasn’t a big deal, I wasn’t in the mood, or I was too tired anyway working and raising a newborn.

  The truth was, I felt pathetic that he didn’t touch me, and unwanted. The lack of desire overwhelmed me at times. I got that he was worried things wouldn’t work normally time to time, but he wouldn’t even attempt it – and the lack of romance and intimacy in our lives became obvious.

  Our patience with one another was shortened, and we felt more like brother and sister than husband and wife. Thankfully we had Ryan to talk about, because the distance between us was growing. We’d managed to get past the worst of his Post-traumatic stress disorder, and while he’d have cycles of issues, they were coming less and less, as he learned new coping skills and his medication kept his anxiety at bay.

  I didn’t know how to fix what was happening to us. If I mentioned sex, he immediately got defensive, and yet my self-esteem was taking a blow. Even a simple shoulder rub or reaching for his hand had his putting up his walls. He didn’t want to go there and be reminded that he couldn’t “perform” the way he had in the past.

  I was so desperate for attention that I started to flirt with my co-workers. I knew it was the wrong path to take, but knowing somebody, anybody was showing interest in me – w
as a bandage to my wounded pride.

  I realized what I was doing, and put the brakes on before it could go too far. This wasn’t the solution. It was my husband that I wanted. I was still in love with him; I just didn’t know how to win his affections anymore. His wall was up so strong, I didn’t know how to break through.

  I knew I had to do something. It was silly, but I wanted to win him back, even though he never actually left physically. It was his emotions I needed to trigger once again, and hopefully remind him why we belonged together. We seemed to be living separate lives under the same roof, and the only root holding us in place was our shared son.

  When I stumbled on his stash of porn, I was shocked. I’d taken the day off to catch up on some household chores while he was at school. Folding laundry, I went to put it away in his closet, but dropped something. Bending over to pick it up, I saw a view I hadn’t in the past.

  “What the….” I said, seeing a stack of magazines. He barely reads. I picked one up, looking at the cover. I carefully tucked it back, my mind spinning. I thought he was past stuff like that, I mean, we’re married. We have, well had sex regularly. Putting the rest of the laundry away, I couldn’t erase what I saw.

  Bending back down, I picked up a few of the magazines and went to sit on the bed. Is this what he’s relying on these days? My curiosity grew, and I went to the computer, scanning the history, looking for more clues. There was nothing showing in the last seven days, but he must have forgotten to erase logs from further back, because there in plain day was a massive list of links pointing to the same thing – porn.

  I felt sick to my stomach. I mean, I would have looked at it with him if he asked, but it felt like some weird secret, Austin not telling me how much time he’d been spending looking at other women’s naked bodies. I clicked on a couple of the offending links, and saw libraries of sex movies, like some kind of club.

  Splashed across the top of the screen, “See Amateur Couples Having Sex,” across another “Hot Girl Doing the Nasty”, and after clicking on “Kinky Couples on Camera” I’d had enough. I was crushed. He didn’t want to have sex with me, but between his magazines and the amount of porn he was looking at, he was obviously still interested in something – just not me.