u/MamatoRo_2024

I want to preface this by saying: I truly do think my husband is a good person who made a bad mistake. But I don’t know if I can come back from what happened.
I (28F) have been married to my husband (29M) for 3 years. We have two kids: a 2‑year‑old and an 11‑week‑old. On Saturday, we were at his nephew’s first birthday party at his parents’ house.
The day before, my son had been exposed to a cat and he’s very allergic. I’d been dosing him with Zyrtec and watching him closely. He seemed okay in attitude and demeanor, but I could tell he was getting increasingly wheezy throughout the day.
Around 7:30 (his bedtime is normally 8, but we sometimes push it for family stuff), my son looked at me and said, “Mama, I wanna go home.” That’s rare for him, so I took it seriously. I told my husband and my son that I was packing up and we’d leave in 10 minutes.
I then breastfed the baby, changed both kids’ diapers, and got them into PJs because it’s a 45‑minute drive and I knew they’d both fall asleep in the car.
While I’m doing all of this, my husband starts playing a pickup basketball game.
I reminded him again, “It’s time to go.” He didn’t listen and said we never do this with his family, and that we stay out later with mine. I told him, “I know, but our son asked to leave and it’s time to go.” I also mentioned that he wasn’t feeling well. He ignored me again, and I started to get the feeling he might be drunk. We’d been there about 3.5 hours and I’d seen him with multiple hard seltzers. He rarely drinks and he’s 135 pounds.
About 45 minutes later—after his game, and after he helped his nieces (7 and 5) grab their crafts and get ready to go while our kids needed his attention—he finally agreed to go home. By then I had to re‑change both babies’ diapers and breastfeed again because so much time had passed.
On the way upstairs to do this, he said, “You are clearly upset,” and I said, “Yes, I am, but we will talk about it later, not in front of the kids.” That set him off and he started losing it in front of them. I tried to de‑escalate by saying, “Daddy, there’s some stuff downstairs, can you gather it up for us?”—basically, GTFO of the room and take a breath.
He then yelled “DON’T” at me in front of our son. I gently brushed my son’s head and said, “Daddy’s angry, and we get angry sometimes. That’s okay, we will make it right.”
We got outside. I grabbed both kids and walked toward the car. He helped load them up and then got in the driver’s seat.
I popped in quickly and said, “Hey, let me drive.” This sent him off again. He started saying, “Do not turn this into that and act like I’m drunk. I’ve had 3 drinks in 3.5 hours.” Mind you, my husband never drinks and is 135 pounds.
I asked multiple times to drive. I tried to de‑escalate again by saying, “I get you may not be drunk, but I haven’t had any drinks, so it just makes sense.” He still wouldn’t budge. After asking so many times to drive, he started calling me a “fucking bitch.”
I turned up the music so the kids couldn’t hear and begged him to be quiet.
The baby started crying and wouldn’t stop, so he offered to pull over so I could get him to stop. At this point, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get him to stop driving, so I said yes. He pulled over in a plaza (about 4 miles from his parents’ house), got out, said “Fix him,” and walked into a restaurant to pee.
I promptly got into the driver’s seat and drove away.
When I realized I had his phone, I called his mom and said, “He is a little drunk and at the restaurant. I am going to get the kids home safe. If you can, go pick him up.” The plaza is about 4 miles from their house. They did go pick him up. I got home safely and got the kids into bed. I didn’t hear from him. I have never done something like this and did not want to leave him, but I didn’t see another choice. My main priority was getting the kids home safe.
At about 12:45 AM, my son woke up having a full‑blown asthma attack. He was saying, “Mama, help me, my heart hurts,” then asking for ice and crying, almost panicking. I was shocked he found those words at just 2 years old. My mom lives with us and ran downstairs and dialed 911.
I realized there wasn’t anything I could do but calm him down and prepare to deliver CPR if I had to. I started singing his favorite song, telling him to breathe and offering water. His breathing changed and he started “whistling,” trying to suck in air. I could see the fear in his eyes, and honestly I see that face every time I close my eyes right now.
The paramedics came and filled my living room. With oxygen, he started to recover—truly hallelujah. They said his vitals were looking good but still recommended transferring him due to the incident, and he became pretty lethargic after.
My son LOVES fire trucks and ambulances and calls them “wee hoo wee hoo trucks.” When he is sick, he ALWAYS asks for medicine from Dr. Rao (his pediatrician) because he knows it makes him feel better.
I gently woke him and said, “Bubba, all these firemen came just for you. Mama got you a wee hoo wee hoo truck so we can go to the doctors and get some medicine.” He said, “THANK YOU MAMA,” so happy. The innocence made my heart shatter.
We got to the ambulance where they needed to strap him into the gurney. I said, “Bubba, you know how we buckle you in the car seat? When you are sick, you get to be buckled in a bed!” That calmed his nerves and he let me buckle him immediately, no fight.
The back of an ambulance is SO bumpy, so to calm him we sang. I sang his favorite songs, and “Dan the fireman” (I told him with a classic name like that he had no choice in occupation, lol) sang along. My baby drifted to sleep.
In the ambulance, I called my MIL’s phone to get to my husband. I told her what was going on, and she got him on the phone. I told him what was happening with our son.
His response was: “You left me, so if you are in an ambulance I don’t know how you are getting home. I’m 40 minutes away, so just keep me updated.”
I couldn’t believe the words I heard out of his mouth. This doesn’t sound like my husband at all—and yet, it does. He has always been a person who cares more about your reaction to his bad behavior and kind of clings to that. I never thought that would extend to our son.
We got to the hospital in a pretty dangerous area (the city has the major hospital) at about 1:30 AM, so you can imagine how insane it was in there. They put a pulse ox on my son and sent us to the waiting room because there were a ton of traumas.
My mom had the baby back home and handed me my pumps before we left, so I was prepared if we stayed.
While in the waiting room, surrounded by high and drunk people, a man started exposing himself to me. Thank God my son was asleep over my shoulder and I just kept singing to him. I walked to the security guard and they strapped the man to his wheelchair. I was alone and terrified.
I called my dad, who was an hour and 15 minutes away, and he got in the car and raced over. Hearing “I am on my way” let me take a deep breath.
We got to see the doctor rather quickly. They gave my son steroids and monitored him for a few hours before releasing us and asking for a follow‑up with the pediatrician to get an inhaler.
My dad loaded us up, I played classical music on the way home, and I transferred my son asleep into my bed. He was peaceful. I had just had the most traumatic night of my life, and my son just thinks he got a cool ride to the doctor for some medicine. Mom win.
The next day, my husband came home because it was Mother’s Day. He sort of apologized, but kept doubling down on my “mistakes,” saying, “I would have been there if you didn’t leave me.” All I could think was: You could have been there anyway. There were 5 adults in your house and 5 cars. You also shouldn’t have tried to drive drunk with your kids. It’s like he tried to make a point with our son.
Come to find out, he went back to his parents’ that night and kept drinking with his dad.
I couldn’t even look at him. We spent the day with our boys, and that night I asked him to leave the house. I told him I needed space and that our marriage had gotten in the way of doing what was right for our son. He stayed at his parents’.
Before he left the next day, his dad apparently told him that me leaving him was “demeaning” and there was a better way to handle it.
I’m sorry, but there isn’t a playbook for how to react when your husband tries driving drunk with your kids. I did what I thought would get my kids home safe. You would think his words would be, “Thank you for making sure my grandkids got home safe,” or “Thank you for showing up for my grandson when my son didn’t.”
Again, how is my reaction the point of conversation?
Honestly, he’s lucky I didn’t deck him in the parking lot or call the police. I left a grown man at a restaurant. It’s not like I called his coworker or best friend—I called his mother to come get a grown ass man. There are consequences for his actions and I wasn’t going to let my sons pay the price. I tried to reason with him.
Also, demeaning is being called a bitch in front of your kids. Demeaning is being exposed to a man in a hospital waiting room while your husband leaves you alone and doesn’t come to protect you and your children. That’s demeaning.
It was also said, “My parents would be pissed if I left you,” which is untrue. My parents would have held me accountable for my actions and would have said I was lucky that’s not the worst that happened. Honestly, my parents would have held me accountable if I let him drive my kids home drunk. And that’s the difference.
It’s not like his parents came to help me. My parents did. At the hospital.
I feel like his family does stupid drunken shit all the time that hurts each other, and my family doesn’t. It’s unacceptable behavior. And sure, maybe someone else would have handled it differently than me, but I should have never been in that position to begin with.
How am I to blame? How is that even a topic of discussion?
Again, to rectify any of this, it will take me being the good person, opening conversation, and talking through it—but they will judge me for how I go about that too. How do they get to judge the feelings I have toward their actions? Or the way I try to fix what they broke? It seems that always ends up being it: they can treat me however they want, but how I choose to move on or fix it is my fault.
Update: My husband is “sorry” now and “gets it” (though he still brings up how I could have handled it differently and even accidentally said “for next time”). He has now tried sleeping with me.
I don’t know if I can come back from this.