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 I still cant recover from that blow. My husbandthe man who dreamed of a baby, who pleaded with 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 mom. 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 flawless. We were young, in love, full of hopes. Yet I knew one thing: we shouldnt rush into children. We needed to find our footing, buy a larger place, save a bit. I understood this because I have younger brothers and I know the grind of caring for a baby day and night. Pierre, on the other hand, was an only child, pampered and shielded, never having truly faced hardship.
When his cousin had a baby, Pierre became fixated. After each visit he repeated the same refrain:
Come on, Élodie. Its time! 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 baby!
Our own parents only made things worse. My mother and motherinlaw kept assuring me they would help endlessly, that everything would be easy. Eventually I gave in.
During the pregnancy Pierre was a model husband. He carried the groceries, did the cleaning, cooked, accompanied me to ultrasounds, and placed his hand on my belly murmuring his love. I believed he would also be a good father.
Unfortunately, the fairytale ended the moment we left the maternity ward. Our son cried. Often. For long stretches. With or without reason. I tried to spare Pierre the nighttime wakeups, but the baby rose every two hours. I paced the flat, rocked him, sang lullabies. In our tiny tworoom apartment there was no escaping that wail. The kitchen light stayed on all night, and I watched my husband turn over in bed, cover his ears, grow angry.
Gradually he grew irritable. Arguments began. He started coming home later and later. Then, a night after our son had just 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 a divorce, just Im exhausted. Ill come back when hes older.
I stood frozen in the hallway, baby in my arms, milk still warm in my chest. He simply left.
The next day his mother called, calm 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 brimming. He was the one who wanted this child, and now he abandons me. What do I do?
Sweetheart, dont make a hasty 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 at my most vulnerable. When all I could think of was our son, the three of ushe gave up. He didnt even stay a few months. Now I wonder can I still trust him? Rely on him? He was the one who insisted on this baby, and the moment the baby arrived, he fled.
Now everything rests on me: our son, the daily grind, exhaustion, fear. And a question that wont leave me: if he abandoned me at such a momentwhat will happen next?
