This is sort of a love story. Well, not sort of, it is one.

If you are a farm wife with small children, you will understand how I felt the day that my husband, his dad, his brother and a neighbor of ours finished their harvest season, as they all helped each other every year. I was so excited and so ready to have help with our three very young sons.

He finished on that first Thursday of November, we had a Holiday party for my work on that Friday. We enjoyed an evening out with friends including karaoke at a local bar. I have to say how much fun it was and how much I missed him. The boys and I had him for the weekend and then on that Monday, the 6^th, he surprised me at work and took me out for lunch, when I got home that evening with the boys from daycare and work, I made supper and was so looking forward to him being home.

The time passed and he did not come home.

I continued with our “harvest schedule” as we had our routine, I fed the boys, we ate and then it was time for baths.

Time passed and still no daddy for bedtime stories.

I called him. He answered and informed me that he was on his way to a treatment center and that he would not be coming home.

I was devastated.

I screamed at him and was so angry, and truth be told, I was selfish. I was tired. I had been the sole parent for these boys and now that harvest was over, I was looking forward to some help and some “down time”, so to speak, as a mom of a 5, 3, and one year old would ever get.

He told me that if I loved him that I would call the facility and would give them our insurance information and so on, as we were on the phone, I basically pleaded with him to just come home and if he still felt like he needed to go to treatment that I would take him next week or later some time. He told me that if he came home that he would never be able to leave me and that this was the time.

I knew from his tone that he was intoxicated.

As I am sobbing and falling apart, the doorbell rings, I look outside of my bedroom window to see my parents standing there. I was so confused of why they would be at my home at 8:30 at night. My husband then informed me that he had called them and told them that I would need them and to go be with me if they would.

I then sobbed.

I had no choice but to accept his decision. I was in denial of his drinking problem. In my eyes, he did not seem any different from any other farmer or husband that I knew in our area. His behavior and drinking were just a norm and accepted amongst all. Many times, if his drinking was discussed with other wives, it did not seem that our story was any different than many others, except for friends that did not drink alcohol of course. That did not excuse or change the fact that one’s idea of an alcoholic may be different than another’s. To me, he was never falling down drunk or passed out with vomit on his shoes, so he was not an alcoholic. He was functioning and always working and had given my boys and I a very nice home and everything we needed. Alcoholics don’t do that, so I thought.

Although, I may have been blind to his drinking, he was not.

I had learned that during his last week of harvest, he had been planning and making all the necessary arrangements for him to be gone.

During his time away, I also became more aware of his indulgences of alcohol. The bills, including credit cards, came in and I could see his frequent stops in convenience stores and in our local liquor store. I also was able to reflect on his behavior and his distance at times, his inability to cope with the boys and their tantrums as well as their normal loud boy play. His friends came and cleaned up his workshop and threw away all alcohol that was found. They took care of their friend to prepare his workspace for when he would return that there would not be any reminders of his pretreatment self. He was loved and supported in so many ways.

My husband spent 28 days away from us, we visited on weekends, and I drove to his treatment center every Wednesday for couples’ therapy which I was included in group therapy as well. I would drive to him again on Friday night and stay with him then leave on Saturday afternoon only to turn around to drive back to see him again on Sunday. The boys and I would take our Sunday drive down to him after church and Sunday school so that they could see their daddy. It was a little over an hour there and back.  

On Thanksgiving Day, I made the choice not to take the boys to see him or to leave our home. It was a hard decision, but the weeks got long with him gone and between working full time and driving to him twice, sometimes three times a week, was taking a toll on me. My sister and her family came to my house, and together we made a big meal and then after, I laid down for a nap and slept until past 6 pm that night. My sister and her husband took care of my children, and I rested. It was amazing and was just what I needed.

The following week we brought my husband home. It was so exciting to have him home with us. Home and present and not numb.

 It was a fresh start but did have its trials and tribulations. He had overcome so much. All that he has sacrificed and all that we as a family have endured during those times, I thank him for his decision and feel every year that we should never go without celebrating his sobriety.

He didn’t do it for me or for the boys, he made the decision for himself, so he could be a better dad, husband, a better son, brother, and all-around better person.

That was his choice.

It has never been anything that he has looked down on anyone else about, he accepted it was not for him and what others want to do, that is on them and does not affect how he feels about anyone.

The day I called the facility and informed the nurse that he was on his way, all while sobbing and answering her questions, she told me many times over how much my husband loves me for doing this, as too many marriages have been destroyed because of the opposite.

This is our love story.

Another year of sobriety, baby.