Day 10. A Pregnancy Journal

Day 10. What Happens When the Knockout Punch Goes Wide Right

I did it. I got ripped on wine and let her have it. I was rotten. I don't love you, I said. I don't even know if I want to know you in six months, let alone this. How can you go on? I even accused her of trying to get pregnant. I know you put it up there, I said, On those trips to the bathroom right after. I even caught you in bed rubbing it around down there under the sheets. I did too. I wasn't making it up. She rubbed it all right but it's hard to say where in the dark when I'm rolled off on my back trying to catch my breath. I screamed, I yelled, I cursed. I said horrible things against her person. I checked the call timer on my cell the next morning and indeed I went on for quite a while, almost an hour. I don't know how I left it either.

But I know I was mean and I meant to be. How could she profess such love, armed to the teeth with it she was, her sword, her answer, her light - how could she say that in her heart she knew what was right because of love, our love? What a fuzzy halo of thought that is. Round and round it goes. I'm doing it because I love you and I know it will work out because of all this love. To which I say, if this love is real and present, wouldn't it make more sense to pull back, correct the ship for the moment, gather ourselves, put ourselves in a better position and put a plan into action together? If it is what you say it is then what's the difference in another 18 months say? And here, I have to remind her that the fertility argument won't work because we weren't even trying and it happened. I just want an answer that doesn't appeal to the ephemeral. I want her to say something that makes sense, that shows me she's got her feet on the ground.

I realized the next morning that my sucker punch went wide right. I felt like all hell of course when I woke up. I hated to be mean. I do care deeply but I've also been backed into a corner and so I'm fighting.

I dialed her up at work from my home phone. I knew she wouldn't recognize the number otherwise I didn't think she would pick up. Hi!, she said, when she realized it was me. It was rather incongruous, her tone that is. Maybe because she was at work, I thought to myself. But then came the disconnect and that's when I knew I'd lost the round last night, my best round ever. Oh honey you had a rough night last night. I can't really talk at work but let's talk later. Don't be too hard on yourself. Be good to yourself today.

And I knew what it was right then. It was dependency speak. It was al-anon or some shit. Forgive them so that they can begin to forgive themselves. What a passive-aggressive bullshit approach. Can't anyone be honest anymore? I realized then the whole situation was hopeless. There was nothing I could say that would reach her. She won.

But she's not going to get the fuzzy version, the bewildered, stumbling, cheerful, expectant deer-in-the-headlights dad. No. If you don't think it's such a big deal - bringing a child into a fucked up situation like this - then neither do I. In fact I'm done talking about it. I'm exhausted already. Can we please have a few months of peace, what may be our last?