The importance of making decisons

I looked down in the hazy sunlight at my left breast, slightly sagging and ashen-toned. A tiny, greying baby was clasping on with its long, claw-like hands, nourishing itself from my deflated motherhood, and I was sad and ashamed that I had made decisions that would leave this baby wanting.  I felt a longing for the baby; I yearned to feel it suckle and to be able to provide for it, but I panicked as I began to awaken from this dream.  I don't know if I felt afraid that I did have a child who relied on me, or if I was afraid that I did not.  Both sides of this coin scare me.

The morning was chill and I couldn't return to sleep because of thoughts of this baby that I did not have.  Should I be a mother? Could I be a mother? Have I given up my chance? Do I deserve it? Could I handle it? Health issues.  Financial issues.  Moral issues.  AGE issues.

When Husband woke, he asked if I had been up long.  If he only knew the mornings that I wake hours before dawn thinking about our life and its direction.  Pondering all the choices.  Knowing I don't even see all the choices that we have to choose from.  Knowing that because of his inability to take action, those choices will never even be utilized.  Well, not making a choice IS a choice.  I pray, I cry, I distract myself.  My choice has always been to let my husband be the head of our household.  My choice has been to follow his lead.  I am a natural leader, but as the offspring of an overbearing mother who wouldn't let her husband lead our home, I have made a concrete decision to play second-chair.  But what do I do when the captain is letting the ship sink? Do I go down with the ship, too? I know I need him to actively direct our lives but I don't know how to help him do that without undermining his authority (which is, ironically, the authority I give him).
 

I gave him an analogy once to help him see how his lack of decision-making in our life is a detriment to us:

He's swimming in a stream.  I am tethered to him.

When he is not making purposeful decisions that push our lives in a desired direction, but is letting life events just happen naturally, he is floating with the current of that stream.  And floating down that stream might be a fine finality of life for one without ambition or dreams, but what if that stream is heading for a waterfall?
I've been shouting, "There's a waterfall coming!" for the duration of our marriage.  He has his headset on and is watching the latest Gearz video and doesn't pay any mind to me. 

I can't swim to the shore alone.

If he would just think through his priorities in life and make decisions geared towards those priorities, he could be swimming toward one side of the stream or another.

I'm not asking him to swim against the current (our natural gifts, talents, blessings), but I'd like him to swim to a bank before we go over the waterfall.

Now I am not a woman of great ambition.  My whole life I have wanted two things: A good marriage, and a home in the country.  Everything else would be a bonus.  I'm thankful for and am not deserving of Husband.  He is the single most wonderful person I have ever had in my life. But he has contributed to my worst pain.  So, with half of my life's "ambition" fulfilled, I have felt incomplete my entire marriage.  I'm a housewife with no house.  A homebody with no home.  A farmgirl with no farm.  And a mother with no child. 
I've bided my time while allowing him the time he needed to grow and mature into a father and a head of the household.  I'm still waiting.  He is still not making decisions for our life. He is still not planning and preparing for what he wants our life to become.
The waterfall is here.  My age dictates that we must start a family NOW or never.  My body dictates that I get treated NOW or having a family may not be possible or bearable.  My soul dictates that we must make God our priority in all things and let His light shine through us.  I'm screaming at a man who cannot hear me.  I'm tied to him and I'm going to drown.

I've told him these things. I've shared my feelings, my hopes.  He says, "I'll work on it.  I'll try.  Okay.  You're right."  But things are still the same. I tell him I hate him for wasting the best years of my life.  It hurts both of us, but he doesn't comfort me.  He gets up and moves the vacuum cleaner.  Offers me an iced water.  Says he'll be right back...and doesn't ever return to the conversation.  He's off to work and I'm alone again.  Knowing the last thing I told him was I hate him.  Scared that it might be true.  Love is as strong as hate...hate is better than apathy.  That's all I can think... at least I hate him.  But I don't hate him.  I just want him to want me to not hate him.  I want him to comfort me.  I want him to tell me something sweet and personal, and real.  Share some feelings of his own. I want him to be sad with me.  To decide to change things.  To stop procrastinating.  To live life.

But I had to wash my face and stop crying alone.  It scares the cat.  And the Fed Ex man is coming.  I can always count on my delivery men to give me a few moments of cheerful exchange.  Always a smile and a friendly word.  The most interaction I have with humans on most days. I bake some cookies.  Leave a mess...because I'm bitter.  My joy is gone...at least today.  But it's gone most days.  Most days are like today; they are just wasted hours until tomorrow.  Tomorrow never comes.

Once upon a time I thought there would be hope.

Once upon a time I dared to dream.

I find no comfort in your arms; they are not there.

I find no solace in your eyes; they are closed.

I find no security in the night when my dreams wake me.

I find no meaning in the songs I hear.

The story isn’t over but it breaks my heart to read on.

The next page can’t erase the pain already caused

No matter what delights may lie ahead.

Happily ever after is just another way to say The End

The Story -by SKH 10-22-2015