Our son was born a year after my miscarriage. During my pregnancy, I had a deep fear that I was going to miscarry again, so I did not allow myself to get too excited, especially because it had been a difficult pregnancy. Caleb was born at 36 weeks, and for the first three months, he just slept and hardly cried. Everyone always told you how little sleep parents with babies got, but we struggled to keep Caleb awake for feedings. The first time he cried, we were confused and even started looking for a stray kitten in the room before we realized it was our son crying! When he was three months old, he just opened his eyes one day and was wide awake, watching me as I cleaned the room. From that moment, we knew what those people were talking about! Caleb was an extremely temperamental child - so much so that the police showed up at our door one day. The neighbors had falsely accused us of child abuse due to his tantrums!
After Caleb was born, Paul quit his job and joined me in my company while he began the Christian ministry part-time. He handled the sales and marketing and liaised with the clients, while I stayed in my home office doing the projects. I hardly ever met with the clients; with Paul as my PR person, I never needed to. He worked on my projects in the mornings and spent the afternoons doing IT consulting and PC repairs for his own clients. The arrangement suited me perfectly. The less I had to interact with people, the better.
It was too expensive to work on the Internet during the day, so I worked from 7 p.m. until 7 a.m. through the nights when cheaper rates applied and slept through the mornings. In the afternoons, Paul and I would go out to spend time together over coffee at a beach-side restaurant, while my mother took care of Caleb during the day. When she brought him home, I would take care of him, cook, and then get to work. Luckily, we had an open-plan lounge/office, so even though I was working, I was still around Paul and Caleb, although I could not join them in whatever activity they were doing.
Then Paul started complaining that his hands and arms constantly felt like pins and needles, and afraid that he would accidentally drop Caleb as a result, he went to our GP. The doctor gave him a preliminary diagnosis of MS and referred him to a neurologist. The neurologist examined him, told him his reflexes were too fast for MS, and refused to do an MRI. He sent him home with a diagnosis of a "pinched nerve somewhere."
And then the sky fell.
A few months later, Paul and I went to our favorite restaurant as usual for coffee. That day, his personality changed practically right in front of my eyes. He told me that he was an atheist, and the man I knew and loved just vanished. It was like he was body-snatched. I had no idea what happened. That day, I lost the love of my life.
A few weeks later, Paul was offered a new job in Witbank, and we moved. We temporarily stayed with his parents, but about a month after we made the 1350 km move, he was fired and replaced with a family member of the company owner's wife. Soon after, he woke up one day partially paralyzed and had to walk with human assistance and a cane. He sent Caleb and me back to Mossel Bay while he went for further tests. A month later, he joined us after he was diagnosed with progressive MS - his brain already resembled Swiss cheese.
He did not stay with us long. One day, he decided that he wanted a divorce because he was going to die soon and wanted to go out and live fully without a wife and child to hold him back. I knew I had to love him enough to let him go. Two weeks later, he put Caleb, who was just over two years old, to bed as he always had and walked out. It was the evening before my 27th birthday. That was also the last night Caleb ever slept normally again.
A few months later, Paul asked me why we had gotten divorced. When I told him why, he was deeply saddened - he did not remember. For a short while, I thought I had the man I loved back, but just as fast as his old self appeared, he was gone again.
Because that is what MS does. It eats away at the nervous system and steals who you once were.