He begged me to have a child, then fled to his mothers house when our son turned three months old.
My name is Élodie, and Im still reeling from the shock. My husbandthe man who dreamed of a baby, who implored me to become a mother, who swore love and supportwalked out as soon as real life with an infant began. And he didnt leave alone; he went back to his mothers. I was left alone, with our little boy, a bruised back and a heart in shreds.
Pierre and I married three years ago. At first our union seemed perfect: young, in love, full of hopes. Yet I knew we shouldnt rush into children. We needed to settle, find a bigger place, save a little. I understood this because Id grown up with younger brothers and knew the grind of caring for a baby day and night. Pierre, on the other hand, was an only childpampered, protected, never truly tested by 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 cope 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 just shrugged:
It sounds like youre waiting for a disaster, not a child!
Our parents only made things worse. My mother and my motherinlaw kept promising unlimited help, saying everything would be easy. I eventually gave in.
During the pregnancy Pierre was a model husband. He carried the groceries, cleaned, cooked, accompanied me to ultrasounds, stroked my belly whispering his love. I believed hed be a good father.
Unfortunately, the fairytale ended the moment we left the maternity ward. Our son criedoften, for long stretches, with or without reason. I tried to spare Pierre the sleepless nights, but the baby awoke every two hours. I paced the apartment, rocked him, sang lullabies, yet in our tiny tworoom flat there was no escaping his wails. The kitchen light stayed on all night, and I saw my husband turning in bed, covering his ears, getting irritated.
Gradually he grew irritable. Arguments began. He came home later and later. Then, one evening, just after 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 on my chest. He simply left.
The next day his mother called, calm as if nothing had happened:
Dear Élodie, I dont agree with Pierre, but this is better. 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 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 shattered me. He betrayed me when I was most vulnerable. When my thoughts were only of our son, of the three of us, he gave up. He didnt even last a few months. Now I wonder can I still trust him? Rely on him? He was the one who pushed for this child, and when the baby arrived he ran.
Now everything rests on me: our son, the daily grind, the exhaustion, the fear. And one question haunts me endlessly: if he abandoned me at a time like thiswhat will happen next?
He Begged Me for a Child, Then Ran Off to His Mother When Our Son Turned Three Months Old.
