He begged me to have a child, then fled back to his mothers house when our son turned three months old.
My name is Élodie, and Im still reeling from the blow. My husbandthe man who dreamed of a baby, who pleaded with me to become a mother, who vowed love and supportwalked out as soon as real life with an infant began. And he didnt leave alone; he went straight to his moms place. I was left alonewith our little boy, a bruised back and a heart in tatters.
Pierre and I had married three years ago. At first, everything seemed perfect. We were young, in love, full of hopes. Yet I knew one thing: we shouldnt rush into having children. We needed to find our footing, get a bigger home, save a little. I understood this because I grew up with younger brothers and knew the grind of caring for a baby day and night. Pierre, on the other hand, was an only child, pampered and protected, never having truly faced hardship.
When his cousin had a baby, Pierre became obsessed. After each visit he kept repeating the same line:
Come on, Élodie. Its the right 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 get up at night, soothe colic, feed, rock. He just shrugged:
It sounds like youre waiting for a disaster, not a baby!
Our parents only made things worse. My mother and my motherinlaw kept insisting they would help endlessly, that everything would be easy. I eventually gave in.
During the pregnancy, Pierre was the ideal husband. He did the shopping, cleaned, cooked, accompanied me to ultrasounds, pressed his hand to my belly whispering love. I believed he would be a good father.
But the fairytale ended the moment we left the maternity ward. Our son cried. Often. For long stretches. With or without reason. I tried to spare Pierre the night shifts, but the baby woke every two hours. I paced the flat, rocked him, sang lullabies. In our tiny tworoom apartment there was no escape from the wailing. The kitchen light stayed on all night, and I saw my husband turn over in bed, cover his ears, get angry.
Gradually he grew irritable. Arguments started. He came home later and later. Then, one evening, just after our son turned three months, he grabbed his suitcase without saying a word.
Im going to Moms. I need sleep. I cant do this. Im not asking for a divorce, just Im exhausted. Ill return when hes older.
I stood in the hallway, baby in my arms, milk still warm against 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 for the best. Men arent made to handle infants. Ill come help you. Please, dont be too hard on him.
Then my own mother rang.
Mom, do you think this is normal? I whispered, tears at the edge of my eyes. He was the one who wanted this child, and now he abandons me. What do I do?
Darling, dont make a rash decision. Yes, he ran away, but not to another womanback to his mother. That means he hasnt completely given up. Give him time. Hell come back.
But Im no longer sure I want him to return.
He broke me. He betrayed me at my most vulnerable moment. When I could think of nothing but our son, of the three of ushe gave up. He didnt even stay a few months. Now I wonder can I still trust him? Rely on him? He was the one who pushed for this child, he insisted, and the moment the baby arrived he fled.
Now everything rests on me: our son, daily life, exhaustion, fear. And a question that keeps haunting me: if he abandoned me at such a momentwhat will happen next?
