When my husband and I decided to go our separate ways for good, many were taken aback. We hardly ever argued, enjoyed weekly date nights, and shared a similar sense of humor. People often described him as charming, kind, and attentive — truly a catch. I often responded with, “I know,” whenever friends commented on how lucky I was.
“Plus, you two are bound to have beautiful children!” they would say, which revealed the first crack in our seemingly flawless relationship — the topic of kids. Not in the direct sense, but rather in how we communicated about it. (Surprise! Poor communication is the top reason couples split, according to a survey of mental health professionals). I had never wanted kids, and I still don’t, a fact I only shared with my mother throughout my life.
“You’ll change your mind once you grow up,” she often said. But here I was, in adulthood, and still devoid of any baby fever. “Just wait until you’re married. Kids will be the best part of your life,” she insisted. Yet, despite my shiny wedding ring, the desire to have children never materialized.
Even after spending years working with children, I still faced pressure. I managed to deflect the constant nudges with, “Maybe someday when I’m older.” My husband echoed this sentiment, hoping that romance would change my mind. But love alone doesn’t magically resolve such fundamental differences.
We lived in a bubble of marital bliss, yet the worry lingered beneath the surface. There were signs — glaring, yet ignored — leading us towards the inevitable end. The first time we separated was a pivotal moment; my husband expressed his desire for a family, while I was yearning for freedom. His grip on the steering wheel was tight as he said, “You want an exciting life, and I want to grow old with grandkids.” I should have recognized this as my cue to let him go, but pride and shame kept me locked in.
Interestingly, history tells us that marriage hasn’t always been about having children. In the early Christian church, couples weren’t expected to have babies, while in the 18th and 19th centuries, motherhood was seen as a woman’s duty. Today, women face immense pressure to fulfill this role. Although I often dismiss comments about the “miracle of life” as “a shame,” I still feared expressing my truth. Our relationship should have ended that night at Dave and Buster’s when he asked, “Do you want kids?” I should have told him he was wasting his time, yet life is rarely that straightforward.
Years later, during a Christmas visit to his parents, I was confronted with the question I dreaded. His mother inquired, “So, when will I be a grandma?” I almost choked on my drink. My husband, ever supportive, reassured her, “It’s still a ways off.” But the pressure was mounting.
“Should we start trying?” he asked after the holidays, and I panicked, retreating into my own mental space. The days blurred together as I struggled with my feelings.
While my husband worked, I found myself at home, neglecting responsibilities and spiraling into a depressive state. During one grocery run, I stumbled upon pregnancy tests in the aisle. I stood there, paralyzed by fear, before finally purchasing one. The negative results didn’t deter me, and I began to obsessively test, hoping for a sign that never came. Eventually, I decided to go back on birth control, convincing myself it was a temporary solution.
Months passed, and I tried to restore some semblance of normalcy, but it was too late. I found myself back in that parking lot, facing the consequences of my choices. Despite my protests, my husband insisted I take the upstairs bedroom while he remained downstairs, giving me space to think.
We ended up back together in the same bed after a couple of weeks, longing for the comfort of one another. “I’m so happy we’re going to try again,” he said, but I felt trapped in my own choices.
In those moments, I finally understood why some people choose to break free from their cages. Love can mend mistakes, but it can’t erase the fundamental truths about what one wants from life. I realized that my reluctance to have children would ultimately be a deal-breaker.
Relationships require open communication and understanding that goes beyond one person’s desires. Although my ex-husband is thriving now, and we share a friendship, I recognize that leaving was the right choice. Everyone deserves to pursue the life they truly want, and sometimes that means parting ways.
For further insights on this topic, check out this blog post as well as this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination. If you’re interested in exploring options, the Cryobaby at Home Insemination Kit is a great place to start.
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