Ugh, I said the unthinkable.

My husband and I have been fighting a lot this weekend. I'm pregnant and always sick and tired. He's annoyed because he's picking up my slack, even though I tell him not to.

So today at breakfast, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take the name-calling, the insults, the berating. I have felt so beaten down the last two days. Worthless. Unloved. Ignored. And I'm only a human being. I can only take so much.

So when he says, "Well, you've definitely convinced me I don't want FOUR kids. This pregnancy has been terrible." I retorted, "Yeah, at this point, I don't even know if I want a third."

....instantly regretted it. It's not what I meant, of course. I love this little baby I'm growing. But when we have these terrible days I'm just like, "what am I thinking?!". But my husband didn't realize I didn't mean it that way. He didn't realize I wasn't wishing harm. So he told me if anything happened to this baby, he blamed me and would never forgive me. He said I was a disgusting human being and gross.

I shouldn't have said it. I know that. But I was pushed to such an edge. I was so desperate and depleted.

He won't speak to me. He does this not because he needs space, but because he knows it kills me. I think he likes knowing I'm just off in a room crying somewhere. Maybe it makes him feel more manly to not care. I don't freaking know.