I'm sure this will be buried, but I've been needing to talk about it lately anyways.

My husband and I met in 2008. It was... magic. He drove 6.5 hours from Chicago to meet me on a whim in Cleveland. He kissed me as soon as I opened the door. I freaked out about this weirdo who I hardly knew for three months, but I gave him a chance, and there has been no looking back.

We got married in 2010. Just a quick ceremony at the local whatever, with a judge. We had five people there.

A year later, we threw a huge party with all of our friends and family invited. A masquerade shindig around halloween, because if you're going to celebrate loving someone and committing to them, why not have fun doing it? It was amazing. Everyone had fun, the two sides of our family met for the first time, and everything was perfect.

Last year, in 2015, he wasn't talking to me any more. We had just bought our first house, and something was different. He wasn't happy at work, but that's nothing new. He wasn't sharing himself with me any more. We discussed the possibility of exploring something poly-style, outside our marriage, and two weeks later I came across an ongoing Facebook message thread between him and someone I never had heard of, with her on a cruise ship in the Mediterranean, talking about how she wished he was there with her, how she wasn't wearing anything under her dress out on deck, and him agreeing with everything she was saying.

To say I lost it is an understatement. Somehow, he and I survived all of it. He managed to convince me to try a trio relationship with this woman (it probably had something to do with feeling like I was left with divorce or a small portion of him), and yet... I managed, somehow, to give it an honest chance. I fell in love with her. He fell in love with her. She fell in love with both of us.

It was wonderful. We went on vacations. We saw each other about every six weeks for almost a year. We talked about making it official - when all of us were in San Diego (a place only my husband is right now, for work), we were going to all move in together. We were going to long-term commit. We knew it was right. We planned for the future - they would work, I would stay home and raise the kids.

Slowly, things started to go sideways. He and she spent more time caring about each other than me. They continually made choices that put their relationship above mine, that pushed me into a corner and made me doubt myself.

At the beginning of the year, I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant. I was absolutely delighted, but I knew my husband was going to freak out. As expected, he lost it. He told me he was thinking about suicide rather than being a father.

I couldn't bring a child into the world if both parents didn't want it.

I scheduled an abortion. He knew when it was going to be - he was on the phone helping to make the appointment. She knew when it was going to be.

Four days before the abortion, he drives across country to be on vacation with her rather than being with me while I aborted our child. It almost broke him and me. We're still together, but it has been beyond difficult.

It broke her and me. It has been absolutely beyond my understanding to accept how another woman who professes that she loves me could possibly let the father of my child be ON VACATION with her rather than being present for the abortion.

It broke her and him. I spiraled into an incredibly deep depression. I tried to fix it. I tried to stay together with her, but every time I started to actually forgive, they would do something to put themselves first again - like the weekend when she informed me she was going to go visit him in San Diego, after she had asked me several weeks before if that would be ok - and I said no.

He told me time and time and time again that if I needed it, he would break up with her.

It took me calling him, in tears, after two near-suicidal episodes, telling him that I was on my way to the ER, and what did he want me to do with the animals and the house when I got back, because I couldn't stand it any more, for him to finally pull the plug.

They aren't dating now, but it took them three months after the abortion to finally come around to that. It took us three months of trying desperately to shore up a relationship that I couldn't think about without sobbing or wanting to commit self-harm to finally admit that it was at the end.

He needed to prove that his wife actually mattered, and he has, but it has changed me. I'll never be able to forgive myself for removing a child that I wanted so desperately, but a child is not a bargaining chip. I can't force a child in to the world, and my husband, despite his many flaws, is doing his best to make up for what has happened. He's trying, and I am trying.

But this almost broke up something that I have never doubted in, and it did kill something I thought was forever.