It wasn't the best idea to approach me one Saturday morning with a straightforward "would you ever have a baby by me?" line. He hadn't even asked me in person or on the phone, but online. It was a stark-blinding question to read just before heading out to an exercise class, so much that I hurriedly closed down my computer and wandered to the gym in a state.
I had previously declared to many people that I'd gone off the idea having worked with children, but there was something in the phrase that really made me want to say yes. He'd had his hardships in the past - growing up with a single mother and her baggage, high school relationships fizzling out, giving up his own teenage love-child for adoption, being the father to a child he never knew existed until she was a few months short of her eighteenth birthday, and possibly another. As a sort of distance father, he'd missed out on the early years and not being there. I felt sorry for him in that respect. But was I really the woman to give him that chance?
The question quite literally took the wind out of me. I wanted this relationship to blossom, grow and last, and the idea of having a child scared the shit out of me. It came down to that selfish jealousy thing again: it was hard enough being apart from him and having to share him, but with him telling me he'd eventually be with only me, I wanted him all for myself. And I wanted that time to last a long time; I didn't want to have to think about another person in our relationship (having all ready endured it from the beginning*). But on my way to the gym, I had a sort of vision in the autumnal sunlight; I saw him playing with a child in the leaves and it warmed my heart. I could picture myself as the mother and/or partner watching and feeling happy.
Whether it was a trick of the light or not, later that day I threw caution to the wind and typed
"yes, one day" and pressed 'send'. I put my worries down to my lack of experience, figuring my opinions would change later in life. His reaction was something along the lines of elation, delivered once again, online, and the fantasy was born.
Together, in our phone calls and emails, we created a daughter figure. I named her. He said she would be a heart-breaker, and I could only laugh at the fact that he "knew" this in advance. He was over the moon - finally he'd been given the chance to be a father to a newborn, a toddler, a youth, pre-teen, teenager, and adult. I had agreed to give him that role. But deep down I was terrified of the metaphorical contract I had signed.
I was twenty two years old and he, eighteen years my senior, was not in a proper relationship with me; "long distance" for show, but "secretly" in reality. Although I didn't know when we would be together, just the two of us, I put that to the back of my mind - I had a choice too, and despite feeling far too young to have children, I felt a sense of guilt that he wasn't getting any younger either. If he were to wait for me to gain my independence and have a career, he would be past his prime. I was scared that, should something happen to him, an accident or god forbid, death, I would end up a single/widowed mother raising a child on my own. I needed to tell him, but I couldn't do it as shamelessly as he had online. I waited until I was with him in person. When that time came, I wept a little, and he hugged me tighter. But all he said was, "I know". I figured he had accepted how scary I found it all, and not a lot more was said after that. I was glad that he had heard me out but later on I decided to reinforce these fears, which eventually led to him saying that if I didn't want children that was fine, he just wanted me. At the time, in that moment, I felt relieved. But there was still that one thing weighing me down - his marriage to another woman*.
* * *
I had previously declared to many people that I'd gone off the idea having worked with children, but there was something in the phrase that really made me want to say yes. He'd had his hardships in the past - growing up with a single mother and her baggage, high school relationships fizzling out, giving up his own teenage love-child for adoption, being the father to a child he never knew existed until she was a few months short of her eighteenth birthday, and possibly another. As a sort of distance father, he'd missed out on the early years and not being there. I felt sorry for him in that respect. But was I really the woman to give him that chance?
* * *
The question quite literally took the wind out of me. I wanted this relationship to blossom, grow and last, and the idea of having a child scared the shit out of me. It came down to that selfish jealousy thing again: it was hard enough being apart from him and having to share him, but with him telling me he'd eventually be with only me, I wanted him all for myself. And I wanted that time to last a long time; I didn't want to have to think about another person in our relationship (having all ready endured it from the beginning*). But on my way to the gym, I had a sort of vision in the autumnal sunlight; I saw him playing with a child in the leaves and it warmed my heart. I could picture myself as the mother and/or partner watching and feeling happy.
Whether it was a trick of the light or not, later that day I threw caution to the wind and typed
"yes, one day" and pressed 'send'. I put my worries down to my lack of experience, figuring my opinions would change later in life. His reaction was something along the lines of elation, delivered once again, online, and the fantasy was born.
Together, in our phone calls and emails, we created a daughter figure. I named her. He said she would be a heart-breaker, and I could only laugh at the fact that he "knew" this in advance. He was over the moon - finally he'd been given the chance to be a father to a newborn, a toddler, a youth, pre-teen, teenager, and adult. I had agreed to give him that role. But deep down I was terrified of the metaphorical contract I had signed.
I was twenty two years old and he, eighteen years my senior, was not in a proper relationship with me; "long distance" for show, but "secretly" in reality. Although I didn't know when we would be together, just the two of us, I put that to the back of my mind - I had a choice too, and despite feeling far too young to have children, I felt a sense of guilt that he wasn't getting any younger either. If he were to wait for me to gain my independence and have a career, he would be past his prime. I was scared that, should something happen to him, an accident or god forbid, death, I would end up a single/widowed mother raising a child on my own. I needed to tell him, but I couldn't do it as shamelessly as he had online. I waited until I was with him in person. When that time came, I wept a little, and he hugged me tighter. But all he said was, "I know". I figured he had accepted how scary I found it all, and not a lot more was said after that. I was glad that he had heard me out but later on I decided to reinforce these fears, which eventually led to him saying that if I didn't want children that was fine, he just wanted me. At the time, in that moment, I felt relieved. But there was still that one thing weighing me down - his marriage to another woman*.
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