**A Father’s Journal: The Shadow of the Past and the Threat of Divorce**
Paternity leave became my nightmare, a trial that nearly shattered our family. Here in a quiet town by the Thames, those three years off with our first child turned my marriage to Oliver into a battleground. Now that life has settled, he insists on a second child—but the memories of those dark days flood me with dread. His stubbornness threatens to drag us back to the shouting matches, and possibly, to divorce. How do I protect myself without losing everything?
When our son, Jamie, was born, I was full of hope. Before the leave, life with Oliver was perfect. We’d dated for two years, then lived together another two without marrying. No arguments over chores or money—we split duties evenly, discussed every expense, and always understood each other. We planned for the baby, braced for hardship, but I never imagined how crushing reality would be. Oliver, the man I thought kind and patient, became unrecognisable, and our marriage began to crack.
The first months with Jamie were hell. I was an inexperienced father, overwhelmed by the crying, the colic, the sleepless nights. My world revolved around our son, but Oliver didn’t grasp it. To him, I was just feeding Jamie every few hours, handing him a dummy, and lounging the rest of the day. *”You’re at home—how hard can it be?”* he’d snap, furious I’d stopped cooking elaborate meals, tidied less, or left his shirts unironed. If I reheated leftovers, he’d grimace: *”This is inedible.”* Yet he refused to lift a finger. *”I’m working all day while you’re home—you should manage,”* he’d say, blind to the fact I was on duty 24/7.
Fights erupted over everything—dust on the shelf, an unwashed pan, yesterday’s dinner. On weekends, he’d shout, *”My mum raised three kids, tended a garden, cooked fresh meals daily—and you can’t handle one in a flat?”* His words stung like slaps. I felt worthless, and his indifference strangled the love I’d once felt. Worse was the financial grip. Once my paycheck stopped, Oliver deemed me *”reckless.”* He demanded itemised shopping lists, vetoing anything frivolous. When I mentioned a haircut, he scoffed: *”You look fine—stop wasting money.”* The humiliation choked me.
My dream marriage had become a cage. I longed to leave but couldn’t—no home of my own, no job. Through tears, I resolved: *Survive the leave, return to work, then go.* That thought kept me going. But near the end, something shifted. Oliver took me to a barber, bought new clothes so I’d *”look sharp”* for my return. When Jamie started nursery and I went back to the office, Oliver changed. He was the caring man I’d fallen for—helping at home, loosening the purse strings. The fights faded, the wounds dulled, and I shelved thoughts of divorce. We were a family again.
Then, fragile peace shattered. Months ago, Oliver announced, *”I want another child.”* His words hit like thunder. Memories of leave—the screams, the isolation—surged back. *”You know how hard it was,”* I pleaded. *”I can’t go through that again.”* He waved me off: *”I earn more now, we’ll manage. I want a son—an heir!”* His persistence grew, and I saw the same coldness in his eyes as before. He wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t grasp how terrified I was of being trapped again.
Every talk of a second child ends in tension. Oliver pushes harder; panic tightens my chest. I picture sleepless nights, his scorn, the financial leash—and feel physically ill. *”I’m not ready,”* I say. He fires back: *”You’re selfish, only think of yourself!”* The old, furious Oliver reappears, and I fear we’re nearing the edge again. Those three years almost broke me—I won’t risk my health, my marriage, my sanity.
Late at night, I lie awake, torn between fear and guilt. Oliver dreams of a big family; I can’t give him that. Am I selfish? Or does he not see how deep the scars run? I love him, love Jamie, but the thought of another child feels like a knife. If Oliver keeps pressuring, the fights will return, and so will my plans to leave. How do we fix this? How do I make him see that leave wasn’t joy—it was a nightmare I can’t relive?
In the quiet of our flat, I watch Jamie sleep, my heart clenched with love and fear. I want to save us—but will I have the strength? Oliver won’t back down, and the rift widens daily. Without compromise, the marriage we rebuilt will collapse. I’m at a crossroads, and every step feels like a fall.
**Lesson learned:** Love isn’t enough without understanding. Some wounds don’t heal just because time passes.
