By Katie Revai LeFevre 
He promised you a lifetime, a family, safety, and security. You carried life and brought it into this world for him. Even still, in the trenches of postpartum, he betrayed you.
It was never your fault.
This is something I’ve fought to tell myself every single day since the day I discovered my marriage was never meant to last. Because the truth is, betrayal is never about you; it’s about them, and the character flaws deep within they’d rather bury than face.
He watched as you fought for your life after delivery while your tiny, premature newborn spent the first hours of his life alone in the NICU. You begged him to stay by your bedside through the night while you recovered from a massive postpartum hemorrhage and a full day of blood transfusions. Even still, he left you there alone.
It was never your fault.
He stood by silently while his family took subtle jabs and made their loyalty known, keeping him perched upon a pedestal long after your vows commanded him to leave his father and mother and become one with you. You pleaded with him to speak up. Even still, he walked away without a word.
It was never your fault.
He promised you peace of mind when you agreed to be a stay-at-home mother and assured you that you would always be equals. You repeatedly requested that your name be added to accounts to ensure safekeeping in the event of a disaster. Even still, he denied you access to everything you chose to build together.
It was never your fault.
He called you paranoid when you noticed he was following and interacting with much younger, bikini-clad women on social media. You questioned why he couldn’t keep his eyes on you and your relationship instead, and give you an ounce of the same attention complete strangers were continuously given. Even still, he brushed it off and shut you down.
It was never your fault.
He lay beside you at night as you believed in empty promises of annual family vacations and a growing family. You pleaded with him to reassure you, because deep down, you knew none of it would ever actually be true. Even still, he lied through his teeth, knowing darn well that keeping you and the life you built together wasn’t ever a priority.
It was never your fault.
He denied everything when you confronted him about another woman posting pictures from his truck. You reacted (yes, reacted) as any sane married woman would. You went away to visit family and returned to find every trace of your existence completely out of sight–family photos, nightstand trinkets, even hampers full of clothes. Even still, he turned it around and denied it again before deflecting and calling out everything he hated about you.
It was never your fault.
He slept peacefully while you painstakingly but lovingly and gladly nursed two babies all the way from birth to three…four years total, the most selfless kind of providing for possible. You held your babies in your arms for every single nap and every single bedtime, dusk to dawn, from the very beginning. You hoped he’d see your sacrifice and cheer you on. Even still, he convinced himself (and the other woman) that you were the one needing to step it up, while he had already been living as if he had already moved on.
It was never your fault.
He threatened, demanded, and forced you out until you had no choice but to get out. You reminded him of the fact that “his” house only became a home because of your constant dedication, care, and keeping, and, quite literally, homemaking and child-raising. You reminded him that he was, indeed, the one with the resources to actually leave. That you and your babies (yes, babies, at a mere one and three) were still worthy of stability. Even still, he made sure you left.
It was never your fault.
Once you were out, you begged and pleaded for him to step up where it was needed. To prioritize the family you and he had already created. To, at the very least, lessen the load and give what was due financially. Even still, he chose his own interests—and hers. In doing so, he left everything on your shoulders. And you carried it all with grace–just as you always have, because you were always the one who never chose to leave.
It was never your fault.
Time and time again, you gave him your all and only asked for the bare minimum. As it turns out, you had every right to fight for what was rightfully yours all along. As I remind myself day in and day out, hear me out: You may have been pitifully betrayed—but it wasn’t your fault.
Maybe, just maybe, God’s protection remains in the simple, complex, heart-achingly raw fact that you made it out.
by Katie Weber 
by Cathy McCoy Collier 
by Erin Uhlaender 
