Grief related to hope

There’s something I need to say, and I’m done swallowing it to protect your comfort. I’m writing this because I can’t keep carrying the grief, the truth, and the hope all by myself anymore.

I still want a baby. I’m still menstruating, which means there’s still a chance—fragile, but real. But I’ve had more than five miscarriages. One of them happened while you were incarcerated. I lost that baby alone. I cried, bled, and broke—without you, without support, without safety.

And still—I stayed. I hoped. I fought for us.

But the truth is, you’ve never brought a child into this world. You couldn’t conceive with a previous partner, and she had children after you. That’s not coincidence—it’s biology. It’s likely male-factor infertility, worsened by long-term use of weed, meth, synthetic stimulants, and cigarettes.

And here’s what hurts the most:

> You’ve betrayed me.

You’ve lied. You’ve hidden things. You’ve snuck around.

You gave in to meth after everything we’ve lost.

And every time you lie or sneak, it makes me feel unsafe.

I’m not just talking about physical danger—though addiction can bring that too. I mean emotional safety. The kind that comes from knowing someone will tell you the truth. The kind that lets you rest without wondering what else is being hidden. You’ve taken that away from me, over and over. And without safety, there can be no trust, no peace, no future.

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I stood up for you when no one else would.

I defended you in front of others.

And in doing so, I risked my future, my reputation, and my stability.

You betrayed that too—for a high.

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Even now, I’m still holding on to hope. We have access to care.

But we don’t have time.

Not if you keep numbing, denying, and sneaking.

So I’m asking you:

1. Quit marijuana completely for 3–6 months. No excuses.

2. Get a full semen analysis and sperm DNA fragmentation test. We need truth.

3. Show up. For your health, for me, and for the future we once said we wanted.

If you do these things, I’ll try again—with you.

But if you can’t… then I need to choose safety, honesty, and healing on my own.

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I miscarried while you were incarcerated.

I risked everything to stand beside you.

You turned to meth and continued to lie.

And now your sneaking makes me feel unsafe in the one place I should feel most protected—us.

Please stop.

Please choose us.

Please choose now.

With love,

Me