A Husband by Any Other Name...

It has to be told. I have now committed an unpardonable relationship sin.

Oh, I could offer some excuses: it was the middle of the night. I was sleepy and worn out from a round of breastfeeding. It was dark. I have postnatal brain shrinkage. Indian guys and half-Lebanese guys look really similar in certain lighting.

But inside these excuses just don't fly: I called my husband by my ex husband's name!

When it happened I was beyond horrified. Intending to ask R. to roll over a bit on the bed so I could cuddle with the baby for a few minutes after feeding, I uttered the name of the father of my first two children. My eyes flew open as soon as I heard my mistake. I waited for R. to react. He moved over as requested, but didn't so much as utter a word.

The next day I waited for him to say something about it. And the day after that. Apparently my error had escaped his notice, though. A few times I began to confess what had happened, but didn't know quite how to tell him.

Then I almost did it again. I found myself thinking of the ex's name sometimes when I started to speak to R. So I knew it was only a matter of time before I did it again. To try to break the curse that had apparently infected my tongue, I broke down and told him.

He shrugged. Said something about muscle memory and how having a baby must be triggering familiar patterns and responses in my brain. He seemed so casual about it.

Truly, I probably knocked him over with the hug of relief. At least I'd like to think that I did.

So far that Husband No. 2 is my favorite husband. I hope I might even remember his name now.