23October2025
Dear Diary,
It feels like Im writing this from the middle of a storm that has been gathering for years. Emily has been telling me, over countless evenings in our modest flat in Salford, that we dont need a baby. Were perfectly fine as a couple, she says, scrolling through her phone while sipping tea. A child would mean sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and my figure would never be the same again. Lets push the idea back another six years, shall we?
When we first married, everything seemed straight out of a romance novel. Five years have passed, and the fairytale has faded. I tried, gently at first, to steer Emily toward motherhood. She kept postponing, and then, out of the blue, declared that she never wanted to hear the word children again. Our onceeasy conversations turned into arguments, and I even resorted to the desperate tactic of emotional blackmail. Lately shes been repeating, almost ritualistically:
Ethan, why would we want a bundle of spit and snot? No sleep, nappies everywhere, a body that looks like a cow after calving, and constant fatigue. Ive listed all the horrors! I dont want to sacrifice my youth for this. Lets wait.
Her words struck me like thunder on a clear day. Before we wed, Emily dreamed of a big family; she promised me:
Of course, love, well have many childrenat least three! But not right away. Lets settle down first, get our house in order, then think about kids.
Now, five years after the wedding, she tells me shes not ready for children. Ive always wanted a heir, so I tried to convince her that the time was ripe:
Emily, weve been together eight years, five of those married. We have a flat, a decent car, a modest nest egg in pounds saved for maternity and everything the baby will need. What are we waiting for?
She snapped back, Why now? I have plans, a list of things I want to achieve. A child doesnt fit into that. Were fine as a pair. Why do we need a third?
I asked, What do you mean a third? Are you treating the baby like a stranger? She exploded, Its easy for you to talk! You arent the one feeling the nine months of nausea, the weight gain, the gymtime lost. Ive spent five years sculpting my body. Do I just throw it all away? After a baby Id lose friends, shop trips, a normal life. Why should I give that up?
I tried to reassure her: Everyone does it. The child will grow, and youll get back to your hobbies. Ill help with everything. She replied, Lets revisit this in five or six years. Right now Im not ready. Its my body, my choice. I dont want to ruin it.
Initially I tried softer approachesmovie nights with feelgood parenthood stories, long walks past playgrounds, even taking her to visit my cousins newborn fourth child. Emily never showed any enthusiasm; she seemed uncomfortable even touching the infant. It was as if the maternal instinct was absent.
Having exhausted those tactics, I finally put the matter on the line:
Emily, if you truly dont want children, perhaps we should part ways. Youll find someone who shares your outlook, and I wont be left alone.
Fear flashed across her face. She works from home, and I help her manage the household. Divorce would mean shed need a new job, a new flat, a fresh start.
Wait, Ethan! What are you saying? A divorce? I cant lose everything weve built, she pleaded.
I grew up in a full familybrothers, sisters. A marriage without children feels incomplete. I asked you about this before we married and you said yes. Now youre backing out because youre scared of gaining weight. Its absurd! I snapped.
She tried to argue that a child would be a massive financial burden, that wed have to give up many things. I could hire a nanny, a housekeeper, our parents could help. The problem isnt money; its your attitude toward the baby. She never admitted that she simply wanted to spend her money on travel and luxuries, with a husband to foot the bill.
Even my aunt weighed in, scolding Emily: Youre disgraceful! Remember your wedding vows! Stop hitting the pubs while I work! Emily tried to defend herself, asking for advice, but my aunt dismissed her, insisting that a child would set her straight.
Desperate, Emily pretended to concede: Fine, Ethan, Ill have a babybut only if a nanny raises him while I keep doing my own thing. I believed her, yet she kept taking hidden contraceptives and, to keep me oblivious, visited a familiar doctor who shrugged and advised patience: Relax. Forget about the baby for a while. Many couples who wait for years eventually conceive naturally.
Six months later, the unexpected happened: a home pregnancy test showed two pink lines. Emily froze, then tried to hide it behind her back, but I caught sight of it.
Whats that? I asked, stepping closer.
She lowered her head. I snatched the test from her trembling hands.
Emily! Youre pregnant! Im going to be a father! I shouted, pulling her into a tight embrace, spinning her around the bathroom. Thank you, love! This is the happiest day of my life!
At a celebratory dinner in a cosy restaurant in Manchester, a new ring glinted on Emilys finger. I sat opposite her in my crisp suit, grinning, and kept repeating, Well be the best parents ever. Ill provide everything you need. Emily forced a smile, but that night she lay awake, eyes fixed on my sleeping face, thoughts swirling:
Could a child actually make our life better? Am I just afraid of change? I could still stay fit, still enjoy my life. And after all, this is a child from the man I love For the first time in years, my heart sensed something new, an unfamiliar tenderness. Maybe I was right after all.
The nine months flew by. I carried Emilys cravings, chose the maternity hospital, attended parenting classes together. She tried to stay supportive, yet the fear of labour never left her.
When the due date arrived, Emily gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The moment the midwife placed him on her chest, she stared at his tiny, wrinkled faceso like me, hiccuping softly. All her doubts vanished.
My love, she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
We named him Sam. From the first day, Emily dissolved into motherhood. She fed him, sang lullabies, took him to the park, even got a flicker of jealousy when I held Sam in my arms. Each evening, as she sat by his crib, she asked herself, How could I have been so foolish not to see this joy sooner? She now knows the happiness that parenthood brings.
Im writing this because I cant help but feel both humbled and exhilarated. Life has taken a turn I never thought possible, and perhaps, for the first time, I truly understand what it means to share a future with someoneand now, with our little Sam as well.
