It used to be that we had our once a year, knock down, drag out around the end of May or June. Not sure why. But a friend that had known us for years pointed that out. It would always be "the end" and he'd go live in the barracks, then he'd come back. I'd joke that he was on his "man period" at that time of year because he just was dark, depressed, irritable, withdrawn, etc. I'd try to draw him out (I can't take care of this family alone) and it would result in him retreating further (always involving World of Warcraft or some similar online game and other women online) and then me pursuing, but in a pissed off way at that point. I don't take a lot of crap so when I'd done the whole understanding thing for awhile and he would still not be getting over himself, I'd get mad. If he wasn't doing right by the kids, he'd really get it from me.
But then when Gabriel died, I had been very sick with pneumonia and whooping cough and rushed to the hospital a couple times, even broke my ribs from coughing. When I delivered him, the focus was on my grief, keeping me loopy, etc. My H was my rock. By the time he brought the baby to me, he was wrapped up in a blanket and cleaned up. I know how devastating my own grief was & there are parts I don't remember. But he was alert through it all. This was his son, dead in his arms.
Hm, now I'm thinking. Our worst fights, his retreat, his online affairs, etc. are now in November.
