I loved - still do - two men. I had loved SM longer and more fiercely than FH. However, FH and I were together; SM and I were not, other than inseparable at a soul level. This and the next post will be somewhat abbreviated because of the incredible pain that still surrounds some of these events.

I tried telling FH what was going on - that SM and I had some strong feelings for each other - but he would have none of it. I was with him; end of story. So SM and I spent a few nights - until dawn - in an upstairs study room that nobody ever used, discussing what I should do. Should I leave FH and fly to where my heart screamed that I belonged? Or should I stay with FH because he didn't deserve to be hurt? SM and I both cried rivers and grew haggard with worry over the next two weeks.

Then I realized (as utterly dumb as it sounds - but if you had my body you would understand how it could've escaped notice for so long) I was still pregnant. With FH's child. I told FH immediately - he was happy, thankfully. Then I told SM.

What *I* needed suddenly didn't matter. SM and I both felt that whatever I decided would have to be for the baby's sake. I prayed and prayed and asked God to take this decision from me. It is the one time in my life where I felt that He gave me a cold shoulder, although I believe He had His reasons. Three innocent lives, three destinies not my own, were placed in my hands.

I chose.