He begged me to have a child, then ran off to his mums when our son was three months old.
My name is Sophie, and I still havent recovered from the shock. My husband, the man who dreamed of having a child, who pleaded with me to become a mother, who swore love and supportleft us the moment real life with a newborn began. And he didnt go alone, no. He went straight back to his mum. Meanwhile, I was left alonewith our little boy, an aching back, and a heart in tatters.
James and I got married three years ago. At first, our life together seemed perfect. We were young, in love, full of dreams. But I knew one thingwe shouldnt rush into having children. We needed to settle in, buy a bigger home, save a bit. I knew because I had younger brothers, and I understood the hard work of caring for a baby day and night. James, on the other hand, was an only child, spoilt, sheltered, never truly tested by hardship.
Then his cousin had a baby, and James became obsessed. After every visit, hed come back with the same old tune:
“Come on, Sophie. Its time! Why wait? Younger parents cope better. If you keep preparing, well be forty before it happens”
I tried to explain that a baby wasnt a toythat nights would be sleepless, colic would test us, feeding and rocking would never end. But hed just shrug and say,
“You make it sound like a disaster, not a blessing!”
Our parents only made things worse. My mum and his kept insisting theyd help endlessly, 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, stroked my belly while whispering how much he loved us. I really thought hed be a good father.
But the fairy tale ended the moment we came home from the hospital. Our son cried. Often. For hours. With reason or without. I tried to spare James the worst of the nights, but the baby woke every two hours. I paced the flat, rocked him, sang lullabies. But in our tiny two-bedroom place, 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. The 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 divorce, just 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 mum called. Calmly, as if nothing was wrong:
“My dear Sophie, I dont agree with James, but its for the best. Men arent built to handle newborns. Ill come help you. Dont hold it against him too much.”
Then it was my mum on the phone.
“Mum, do you think this is normal?” I whispered, tears welling up. “He was the one who wanted this baby. Now hes abandoned me. What am I supposed to do?”
“Darling, dont make any rash decisions. Yes, he ran. But not to another womanto his mother. That means he hasnt given up completely. Give him time. Hell come back.”
But Im not sure I want him back anymore.
He broke me. He betrayed me when I was at my weakest. When all I could think of was our son, our familyhe gave up. He couldnt even last a few months. And now I keep wondering can I ever trust him again? Rely on him? He was the one who wanted this child. He was the one who pushed for it. And the moment that baby arrived, he bolted.
Now its all on me. Our son, the daily grind, the exhaustion, the fear. And one question that wont leave me aloneif he abandoned me at a time like this what happens next?
