I think I’m destined to be a single mom.  

In my mind, we have everything. We each have master’s degrees, great careers, financial security, a wonderful home, our book is going to be published, and best of all, we have a healthy, much wanted baby on the way. And yet, he’s been especially quiet, distant, cold, and overall depressed. For a long time, he’s refused to have intercourse with me, claiming it’s because there is a baby in there. I asked “what’s wrong” enough times that he finally explained how miserable he is. He says that his beautiful wife’s body is no longer attractive, and is now just a house for a baby, and he’s sure I’ll be fat after giving birth. I assured that I have no desire to be fat, and that I have only gained the minimum weight that I am supposed to put on for a healthy pregnancy. He doesn’t believe me. Lou said that even if I am somehow able to be thin again, all he sees ahead is “a life of crummyness.” I agreed that life will be different, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be wonderful. I told him that the lives our parents led doesn’t determine what is in store for ourselves, and that we have control over what our family will be like. Just because he viewed his father as miserable didn’t mean that he will be miserable as well. And the fact that his father had a wife and kids does not mean that was the reason he was miserable.

I was kind, understanding and supportive, and tried not to take it personally when he shared his fears that he would end up with a fat, ugly wife, living a crummy life. But then, he said it was all my fault. He said that I pressured him to get pregnant, and that he didn’t want to have a baby. He said I had hammered him on the topic until he gave in. I was neither understanding nor supportive of those statements. How can he possibly think this is true? That is bullsh*t, and he knows it. Yet there he was in my face actually saying it was all my idea and responsibility that we are having a baby. There was never a question in our lives together that we would have children, it was just a matter of when and how many. Once we both had our educations, and good careers, and I was thirty, it was the right time, and I know for a fact that we decided together. I remember sitting in the backyard having the conversation about it, and him saying that we should do it, and for me to make an appointment with a doctor. I didn’t talk him into it. I didn’t argue or plead or even hint for that matter. It was a natural decision just like any other decision we have ever made together. Like what color to paint the walls, or what furniture to buy, or where to invest our savings. I know he was fine with the decision to get pregnant until it actually happened. The moment I showed him the results of the pregnancy test was the first time the reality hit him. His warped imagination has pieced together a horrific future. That does not have to be the reality of life. It can’t be.

But now, my imagination is piecing together a future as a single mother. I know he is going to leave me, and I won’t stop him. He says he will not leave, but I don’t want to be in a miserable marriage. I don’t want a miserable life. In my heart am so happy about having this child, but I can’t possibly be happy in this marriage. I don’t know what I am supposed to do. I can’t help him if I am the problem. Lou dumped all this on me, and I am left to deal with it alone. There is absolutely nobody who I can talk to about this. All I can do is try my best to prove that I can still be a good wife. And if my best is not enough for him, I can still be a good mother for my child. With or without him.