My Husband Had an Affair. I Chose to Stay.

I was in sixth grade when I learned my father was a chronic cheater. It was years before my mother figured it out and asked him to leave. But she always forgave him, allowing him to move back home until the next time...because there was always a next time. Years of witnessing my mother forgive Dad's infidelities made me lose all respect for her. I loved her, yes, but she was gullible and blind to his lies, and over time, much of my love for her turned into pity.

Shortly after I married my husband, I asked my mother why she kept forgiving Dad. Why not just get a divorce and move on? "Just because someone is unfaithful to you doesn't mean you can automatically stop loving them," she said. "We have you kids and a history together. I couldn't throw all that away because of some meaningless affairs. He still loves me, and that's all that matters." 

This made no sense to me, and I vowed never to let any man treat me like a doormat, as my mother had. I also believed I was too smart to be fooled by infidelity. My husband was a good, exceptionally loving man, so I was sure I had nothing to worry about. 

Or so I thought. 

Our early years of marriage were smooth enough; I was a stay-at-home mom with four children, and my husband had a dream job that he loved. But over time, we became so busy running the kids back and forth to school and their extra activities that there was little time for just the two of us. I prioritized our children's needs over Jerry's, and he resented it. We started drinking on the weekends in a feeble attempt to spend relaxing, one-on-one time together. 

We'd been married too long to throw it all away; the desire to keep my family intact was more important than my hurt pride.

However, one bottle of wine would quickly turn into four, and suddenly we were arguing about everything from money to housework to who was doing a better job at parenting. Jerry complained bitterly over carrying the entire financial load for the family. Yet, he insisted I stay home because he didn't want to put our kids in daycare. He also had issues with his new boss and no longer enjoyed his job. The constant bickering and negativity wore me down to the point that I eventually tuned him out. Of course, this only frustrated him, and he accused me of being unsupportive and dispassionate.

Many years later, when Jerry and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary, we'd already been through so much—the deaths of our parents and several siblings; my youngest teen's drug addiction; unemployment and bankruptcy; finding new jobs and new friends; watching our children graduate from college and marry. We were rounding the final lap to becoming empty nesters. We loved our quiet lives and dreamt of retiring and buying an RV to travel around the country together.

Those dreams were shattered the day my daughter overheard a sordid story about her father and came to me in tears. Ten years earlier, Jerry had had a one-night stand with a neighbor who, at the time, was a close friend of mine. She was in an abusive marriage, heading for a tumultuous divorce, when she turned to Jerry for advice and emotional support. He was always kind and helpful with Allison; it never crossed my mind that they were anything but friends. 

I was blindsided by the betrayal. When I confronted Jerry, he seemed relieved that the secret was finally out. Even though I was disgusted by their brief affair, I needed to know the details of what led to their tryst. Jerry tearfully admitted everything and answered all my questions. For him, it had been an act of comfort that unexpectedly turned sexual. Once it was over, he and Allison felt ashamed and agreed it would never happen again.

I realized his infidelity with Allison had occurred during the height of our bankruptcy, when he was being treated for anxiety and depression. Although his eyes showed deep remorse, my knee-jerk reaction was to "punish" him by leaving. I didn't feel as forgiving as my mother had been with Dad. I was convinced that once my trust was gone, my love would also disappear. 

But it was my mother who convinced me to stay in the marriage. She reminded me that Jerry was a good husband and father in all the ways that counted—always attentive, loving, and kind. I also thought of how it would affect our children and our family's dependence on Jerry. When I envisioned being a single mom of four kids and trying to hold down a full-time job, it was a sobering moment. I couldn't stomach the thought of entering the dating scene again or, worse, watching Jerry date other women. 

To salvage our marriage, I needed to unearth the emotional connection we once shared. But I knew it wouldn't be easy since my love was buried under a thick layer of mistrust. 

After days of weighing the pros and cons, I decided Jerry and I had been married too long to throw it all away in a snap decision; the desire to keep my family intact was more important than my hurt pride. And just as my mother had done with my dad, I also felt that the years of hard work we'd put into our marriage deserved another chance, so I agreed to attend couples therapy.

Oddly, infidelity and counseling brought us closer in our relationship. We were so open and vulnerable with each other that, at times, it felt like it was just us against the world—and I couldn't imagine not having Jerry in my life. 

Counseling also taught me that our marital mistakes were just as much my fault as Jerry's. He had always put me first, but I hadn't done the same for him. It was startling to discover that for years, he'd felt like nothing more than the family's cash cow and assumed that I'd stopped loving him since I rarely made time for sexual intimacy. Once I realized how I'd subconsciously been taking him for granted, I understood why he turned to another source for comfort. And with that understanding came healing, forgiveness, and the knowledge that we both needed to work harder on our commitment. It was a process that would be ongoing as long as we stayed married.

We were truthful with our kids about our marital problems, and when they criticized Jerry, I was quick to defend him. That's when I knew I still loved my husband and would never leave him. 

Jerry vowed to change, and his efforts paid off. We recently celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary by buying an RV to fulfill our lifelong dream of traveling together. Yes, tiny twinges of mistrust pop up, but I believe they're just ashes from the past stirred by the occasional wind gust.

I realize now that my mother wasn't weak for staying with Dad; she was strong enough to remain and repair their marriage. By following in her footsteps, I know I made the right decision to stick with my vows, "for better or worse," because Jerry and I are better people when we're together rather than apart.