He begged me to have a child, then ran off to his mothers house when our son was three months old.
My name is Élodie, and I still havent recovered from that blow. My husbandthe man who dreamed of a child, who pleaded with me to become a mother, who swore love and supportleft the moment real life with a baby began. And he didnt go alone; he went back to his mother. I was left alonewith our little boy, a bruised back and a heart in tatters.
Pierre and I married three years ago. At first our union seemed perfect. We were young, in love, full of hopes. But I knew one thing: we shouldnt rush into children. We needed to find our footing, buy a bigger place, save a little. I understood because I have younger brothers and know the grind of caring for a baby day and night. Pierre, on the other hand, was an only child, pampered, protected, never having faced real hardship.
When his cousin had a baby, Pierre became obsessed. After each visit he repeated the same line:
Come on, Élodie. The time is now! 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 child!
Our parents only made things worse. My mother and motherinlaw kept telling us they would help endlessly, that everything would be easy. Eventually I gave in.
During the pregnancy Pierre was a model husband. He did the shopping, cleaned, cooked, went to the ultrasounds with me, pressed his hand to my belly whispering love. I thought he would be a good father.
Unfortunately the fairytale ended the moment we left the maternity ward. Our son cried. Often. For long stretches. With reason or without. I tried to spare Pierre the night shifts, but the baby woke every two hours. I paced the apartment, rocked him, sang lullabies. In our tiny tworoom flat there was no escape from that wail. The kitchen light stayed on all night and I saw my husband turn in bed, cover his ears, grow angry.
Gradually he grew irritable. Arguments started. He came home later and later. One night, 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 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, calmly, as if nothing had happened:
My dear Élodie, I dont agree with Pierre, but this is for the 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, 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?
Sweetheart, 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 return.
But Im no longer sure I want him back.
He broke me. He betrayed me at my most vulnerable moment. When I only thought of our son, of the three of ushe gave up. He didnt even last a few months. And now I wonder can I ever trust him again? 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, the daily grind, exhaustion, fear. And a question that keeps haunting me: if he left me at such a momentwhat will happen next?
He Pleaded with Me to Have a Child, Then Ran Back to His Mother When Our Son Turned Three Months Old.
