I’m not even sure where my story should start. If there really is a point at which things started to go wrong again or if in reality they just have never gone right. I thought things were better. I thought we were making progress and building a good life together.
I’ve always wanted two kids. I’ve always been very clear on this and have never changed my mind on it – even after the traumatic arrival of my daughter. We had agreed on two kids. When my daughter was 8 months old we still agreed on this. Around the time she turned one though, suddenly I found out we weren’t in agreement. Along came a huge, emotional argument about having baby number 2. We were getting nowhere and eventually agreed to come back to it. It haunted me. I spent every single day thinking about my desire to have another baby. But I kept it to myself, made sure I wanted it for all the right reason’s and that I wasn’t being selfish or not looking at things from his perspective. I waited for the conversation to be brought up again. But it didn’t happen. So eventually I wrote him a letter. I poured my heart out in it and listed all my reasons for wanting another one and answering all his concerns and reasons for not wanting another one. Along came another emotional argument. This one ending with him reluctantly agreeing to try for another one, with certain conditions. These included me not putting any pressure on him and saying we had to have sex right now, me eating healthier and that he would return to work and not be expected to take time off. Right after this conversation I didn’t feel any sense of achievement or like I’d won a battle. But soon after he started speaking positively about having another and it made me feel better, like a corner had been turned and we were back on the path of happiness. Fast forward four months and me finding out I’m pregnant. He showed what I thought was genuine excitement. And then we back to China. And things just started to go downhill. He resented the money I was spending on doctors appointments. He told me he wasn’t excited about the baby and all he could think about was the money we were spending and the lives we weren’t living and wouldn’t be able to live because of this new baby. He was also tired of being a stay at home dad and didn’t feel like he was achieving anything. I tried to encourage him to find a job.
One night we got into a ridiculous argument that spiralled out of control. Things were said and done that can never be taken back. He told me he was leaving. I was four months pregnant. We didn’t talk for days. Then we had a conversation and I thought maybe there was hope. We agreed to for counselling. I started researching it but when the time came to go, he changed his mind – his reasons were that he didn’t believe it would make a difference and that he didn’t want to go because it was my suggestion. He decided a trial separation was what was needed. I had no choice in the matter. Within a matter of days he found a job and an apartment and moved out.
My life was thrown into turmoil.