He begged me for a child, then ran off to his mothers when our son was three months old.
My name is Emily, and I still havent recovered from the shock. My husband, the man who dreamed of a child, who pleaded with me to become a mother, who swore love and devotionleft us the moment real life with a newborn began. And he didnt go alone, no. He went running back to his mum. Meanwhile, I was left alonewith our little boy, an aching back, and a heart in pieces.
James and I married three years ago. At first, our union seemed perfect. We were young, in love, full of dreams. But I knew one thing: we shouldnt rush into having children. We needed to find our footing, buy a bigger home, save some money. I knew because I had younger brothers and understood the relentless work of caring for a baby day and night. James, on the other hand, was an only child, pampered and sheltered, never truly facing hardship.
But when his cousin had a baby, James became obsessed. After every visit, hed return with the same refrain:
“Come on, Emily. Nows the time! Why wait? Young parents manage just fine. If you keep preparing, well be forty before it happens.”
I tried to explain that a child wasnt a toythat wed be up at night, soothing colic, feeding, rocking. But hed just shrug:
“You make it sound like a disaster, not a blessing!”
Our parents only made things worse. My mum and mother-in-law kept insisting theyd help without limits, that it would all be easy. In the end, I gave in.
During the pregnancy, James was the perfect husband. He carried the shopping, cleaned, cooked, came to every scan, touched my belly while whispering how much he loved us. I truly believed hed be a good father.
But the fairy tale ended the moment we came home from the hospital. Our son criedoften, loudly, with or without reason. I tried to spare James the sleepless nights, but the baby woke every two hours. I paced the flat, rocking him, singing lullabies. In our tiny two-bedroom, there was no escaping the sound. The kitchen light stayed on all night, and Id see my husband tossing in bed, covering his ears, growing frustrated.
Slowly, he became irritable. Arguments started. He came home later and later. Then one evening, just after our son turned three months old, he packed a bag without a word.
“Im going to Mums. I need sleep. I cant do this. I dont want a divorcejust Im exhausted. Ill come back when hes older.”
I stood frozen in the hallway, the baby in my arms, milk still warm in my chest. And he just left.
The next day, his mother called. Calmly, as if nothing had happened:
“Emily, love, I dont agree with James, but this is for the best. Men arent built to handle newborns. Ill come help. Dont hold it against him too much.”
Then my own mum rang.
“Mum, do you think this is normal?” I whispered, tears threatening to spill. “Hes the one who wanted this baby. Now hes left me. How am I supposed to manage?”
“Darling, dont make any rash decisions. Yes, he ranbut not to another woman. To his mother. That means he hasnt given up completely. Give him time. Hell come back.”
But Im no longer sure I want him back.
He broke me. He betrayed me when I was at my most vulnerable. When all I thought about was our son, about the three of ushe gave up. He couldnt even last a few months. And now I wonder can I ever trust him again? Rely on him? Hes the one who wanted this child. Hes the one who pushed for it. And the moment that baby arrived, he ran away.
Now, everything falls on me. Our son, the daily grind, the exhaustion, the fear. And one question haunts meif he abandoned me at my lowest, what else will he walk away from? Life teaches us hard lessons, but none cut deeper than learning that love, sometimes, isnt enough to make someone stay.
