As I hung up the phone, I wanted to scream, jump up and down, or hug the next person I saw. Of course, I was standing in line at Starbucks, so I had to keep myself composed.

I’d just come from a job interview at Odin Manufacturing, one of the biggest factories in the Midwest. They make all types of products ranging from consumer goods to materials for the military. Having never worked outside of office complexes, I thought I was going to be in way over my head. Much to my surprise, the interview was great. It was probably one of the best interviews I’d ever had in my life.

When I was being escorted to turn in my visitor’s badge, the woman who had interviewed me told me that they had a couple more interviews and that they’d be making a final decision by the end of the week. It came as a surprise that my phone would ring 45 minutes later with a job offer, but I wasn’t about to question it. I was ecstatic and must have made a great impression.

Going back into the workforce was going to be strange. It had been just over 10 years since I’d left my last job where I worked as a receptionist. About to leave for my honeymoon, I was teary-eyed as I said goodbye to everyone I had worked with, knowing that when I returned, I was going to be a housewife.

One year earlier, my husband Dillon graduated from medical school and had become an MD. He worked in a local doctor’s office for a year to get his name out there, but what he really wanted to do was start his own practice. We both knew that was going to mean long hours, making it more difficult for us to see one another. It also meant that there would be more money, making the decision to leave my job much easier.

I make being a housewife sound like it’s been a bad thing, but I honestly have loved every minute of it. My man, hard at work all day while I was at home keeping everything in order. I looked forward to him coming home each night. I’d have dinner on the table, and we’d talk about his day and our future. It was nice for a long time, but it also got very frustrating. When Dillon and I got married, I had pictured things much differently.

My dreams of being a housewife included being a mother. Since it was just me in the house most of the time, there was really just minor tidying up each day. Other than that, I mostly did a lot of reading and watching television.

What I had really wanted all along was to be a mother. I had it all planned out in my head. I wanted to have one boy and two girls, in that order. That way, my daughters would have a protective big brother to make sure nothing bad ever happened to them. We would spend afternoons in the park or on a big swing set in our backyard before reading them bedtime stories at night.

Instead, the backyard is empty other than two large oak trees in the center of the yard. I’ve intended to start a garden for the last couple of years, but I don’t see much of a point. Anything I grew would end up going bad before being eaten. The dinners I used to make for Dillon began getting fewer and further between. I knew he was working long hours, but it was starting to have an effect on us.

Before I knew it, he was no longer interested in my day, and I stopped asking about his. I had come to accept the fact that his life was all about his practice and that starting a family wasn’t even on his radar. There had even been times when I wondered if I was even on his radar. It sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

I had lost track of the last time he and I spent any real time together, and that’s just referring to something as simple as sitting on the couch and watching a movie together. I certainly wasn’t being taken on anymore. It had been close to two years since he took me out on the town. The only time we even went out to dinner was when he was meeting with pharmaceutical reps, and he wanted me there on his arm.

Our sex life was no longer anything to write home about either. During our first few years of marriage, everything was fun and exciting. We were always experimenting in the bedroom and trying new things. We would get frisky outside of the bedroom just as much as we did inside. We would role play and have lots of fun. Those days were apparently over.

Although our sex life wasn’t dead, it was very much on life support. I was lucky if I got laid once a month. On the rare occasions that we did have sex, it had become very routine. It was always the same thing. I’d go down on him for a couple of minutes, he might rub me a bit, then he’d roll me over and screw me in missionary position until he was done. I didn’t even get off most of the time anymore, at least not with him. I’d wait until he was asleep and then finish the job myself.

Passion. If there is one thing that I miss the most, it’s the passion that he and I used to share together. I love him, I really do, and the last thing I want to do it lose him, but something had to give. I was beginning to go crazy sitting in a house by myself day in and day out, so I went looking for something to occupy my time. I found what I was looking for in a job. I just hoped he would understand.

I knew he had a free spot in his schedule during the afternoon, so I took a deep breath and gave him a call.

“Honey, I have some news for you.”