Babies and Break Ups

From the day I fell in love with Mr. Intellectual I knew I wanted to have his children. I dreamt of little chubby babies with curly blonde hair and the same piercing steel blue eyes as his. I thought we would have had beautiful children and I wanted a baby Intellectual, something that was a shared product of our love for each other. Right from the start I knew he would be an awesome father after watching him with the children his Mother babysat in her home. He genuinely loved children and could be very patient with them, while at the same time getting down to their level to interact and play. Watching him with those kids made me love him even more.

Over time we began to share our hopes and dreams for the future and children were definitely on his agenda as well. One of our favourite games to play together during our time spent alone together was to banter back and forth with baby names. Eventually it would be reduced to the ridiculous; often times horrible ancient Latin and Greek names on his side would be countered with outlandish Victorian and German names from my side. It was at this point where the game would devolve and the names being bantered back and forth were no longer for our future progeny but instead meant for the dog or dogs we one day wanted to own in our happy little house.

Eventually in our first year together we agreed upon ‘Simon’ as our first son’s name. I was extremely reluctant at first and rather disliked the name, but his charm and persuasion won me over in the end. He never could reconcile himself to my favourite girl name, Jane, and fought me over it for years. He never did like any of the baby names I picked. After a while I quietly laid aside the name Jane and moved on. At the least I always figured I could name the little grey miniature Schnauzer I wanted Lady Jane Grey.

Roughly 9 months before we split I thought I was pregnant. When I had to call him from my University town to break the news I was extremely worried, but I knew it wasn’t the end of the world. We were both 22, going on 23, and set to graduate in less than 6 months. Unlike when we were teenagers I knew that having a baby at this point in our life wasn’t going to ruin everything. Granted it would have been hard, but we were adults and quite capable of supporting a child. I knew that I wouldn’t be going to Grad school right away and the time table for our wedding would have to be moved up by a couple of years, but I loved him and knew we would be alright. It would have been my life that would have changed more dramatically than his, since he could still go to grad school and do all the things he was planning on doing, while I would have put my plans on hold to support him and our unborn child. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make because I loved him unconditionally.

The reaction I got from him when I told him that I was late and thought I was pregnant was nothing like I expected. In fact it was a complete heartbreak for me. While I didn’t expect him to be overjoyed with the news I never could have predicted his reaction. He acted like I had ruined his life and absolutely could not function for the week or more I had to wait before I could get a pregnancy test. I spent the next week reassuring him, talking him through it and trying to help him get through the day and get all his academic work done. He acted like a man thoroughly broken and unable to continue because of the news. Not once did he ask how I was feeling or coping. Not once did he tell me he loved me and would be there for me regardless of what happened. He was unequivocally selfish and self-absorbed during this short time and it shattered my trust in him. I was devastated to learn that he just wasn’t the man I thought he was.

Somehow I managed to pick up the pieces and move forward. It turned out to be a false alarm. I had never been pregnant, and yet I never looked at him the same again. For several weeks afterwards he didn’t even want to touch me- like I was poison. Not only did I feel alone and abandoned after the whole experience I was now a pariah. I attribute the biggest reason for our downfall to this episode, even though he doesn’t realize it. Afterwards he had no idea that he was even treating me differently but it was there and was to remain between us for the next 9 months until I walked away from the relationship.

Perhaps it was my naivety that made me see myself with his children so soon into the relationship. Or maybe it was my absolute trust and unconditional love of him. Whatever it was, I haven’t seen myself with children in the future since then. I haven’t met a man since Mr. Intellectual that has made me envision bearing his children. Even though I’m with someone right now, I don’t see myself with his children. The whole notion is so foreign and the idea uncomfortably incongruent in my mind. I think I’m afraid to trust a man again in that way, but I hope one day I can get over that and see that not everyone is like Mr. I. Had I really been pregnant our baby would have been turning two this summer.