He begged me to have a child, then fled to his mothers house when our son was three months old.
My name is Élodie, and Im still reeling from that blow. My husbandthe man who dreamed of a baby, who pleaded with me to become a mother, who swore love and supportwalked out the moment real life with an infant began. And he didnt leave alone. He returned to his mothers home, leaving me alone with our little boy, a bruised back and a heart in tatters.
Pierre and I married three years ago. At first, everything seemed perfect. We were young, in love, full of aspirations. Yet I sensed one thing: we shouldnt rush into parenthood. We needed to find our footing, secure a larger place, save a little. I knew this because I grew up with younger brothers and understood the nonstop toil of caring for a newborn. Pierre, on the other hand, was an only child, pampered and shielded, never having faced genuine hardship.
When his cousin gave birth, Pierre became fixated. After each visit he repeated the same refrain:
Come on, Élodie, its time! Why wait? Young parents manage better. If you keep preparing, we wont get there until were forty
I tried to tell him a child isnt a toythat you have to rise at night, soothe colic, feed, rock. He shrugged and said:
It sounds like youre waiting for a disaster, not a baby!
Our parents only made things worse. My mother and motherinlaw kept promising unlimited help, insisting everything would be easy. I eventually gave in.
During the pregnancy Pierre acted like an ideal husband. He carried the groceries, cleaned, cooked, accompanied me to ultrasounds, ran his hand over my belly while whispering his love. I believed he would be a good father.
Unfortunately, the fairytale ended as soon as we left the maternity ward. Our son criedoften, for long stretches, with or without reason. I tried to spare Pierre the nighttime awakenings, but the baby rose every two hours. I paced the apartment, rocked him, sang lullabies, yet in our tiny tworoom flat there was no escape from that wail. The kitchen light stayed on all night, and I watched my husband turn over in bed, cover his ears, and grow angry.
Little by little he grew irritable. Arguments started. He came home later and later. Then, the night our son turned three months, he grabbed his suitcase without a word.
Im going to Moms. I need sleep. I cant do this. Im not asking for a divorce, just Im exhausted. Ill come back when hes older.
I stood in the hallway, baby in my arms, milk still warm in my chest. He simply left.
The next day his mother called, calm as if nothing had happened:
Sweet Élodie, I dont agree with Pierre, but this is best. Men arent made to handle infants. Ill come help you. Please dont hold it against him too much.
Then my own mother phoned.
Mom, does this seem normal? I whispered, tears brimming. He was the one who wanted this child, and now he abandons me. What do I do?
Darling, dont make a hasty decision. Yes, he ran away, but not to another womanback to his mother. That means he hasnt completely given up. Give him time. Hell return.
But Im no longer certain I want him back.
He shattered me. He betrayed me at my most vulnerable moment. When all I could think of was our son, the three of us, he gave up. He didnt even endure a few months. And now I wonder can I still trust him? Rely on him? He was the one who pushed for this child, who insisted, and as soon as the baby arrived he fled.
Now everything rests on me: our son, daily life, exhaustion, fear. And a question that haunts me constantly: if he abandoned me at such a momentwhat will happen next?
He Pleaded with Me for a Child, Then Ran Off to His Mother When Our Son Turned Three Months Old.
