March 10, 2019

"You want to tell me what's wrong?" Adam asked as he watched Joan move around their room getting ready for bed.

She stopped and gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nothing's wrong."

He nodded, thinking over the evening. Joan had been unusually quiet and distant. She'd been like that for a couple days now. It bothered him that she wouldn't share whatever was on her mind. "How long have I known you, Jane?"

Brow furrowed, clearly surprised by the question, she answered, "Sixteen years."

"So why are you even bothering to lie to me?"

Joan stared at him with wide eyes then sat beside him on the bed, sighing. She turned her wedding band compulsively around her finger, a sure sign that she was upset about something. Apprehension tightened Adam's chest. What could she have to tell him that was so bad?

"Do you remember that fight we had on Valentine's Day?" she asked quietly.

Adam nodded, a slight smile on his lips. He'd had to work late again, canceling the plans she'd made for them. When he'd finally gotten home, Joan was furious. She'd accused him of never making time for the family anymore. He was either at the university or working on his art. He'd tried to appease her anger, especially after she lamented the waste of having Simon spend the night with one of his playground friends. But the more she fussed, the angrier he got until they were both shouting at each other. They were in each other's face when she said that she'd quit her job to spend more time with him. He'd said if she hadn't quit, he wouldn't be working so hard now. Then she'd slapped him.

The sharp, burning surge of anger he'd felt and the subsequent compulsion to strike back shocked and scared him. As his cheek burned in the shape of her handprint, Adam did the first thing he could think of to keep from lashing out: he kissed her.

She'd pushed back but he didn't lose his grip of her arms. He'd stared at her, a little thrown. The anger he'd felt mere seconds ago now pounded through his body as desire. Thrusting his hands in her hair, he'd claimed her mouth again. This time Joan had returned his kiss, grabbing at him, trying to pull him closer. Before either knew what was happening, they were tearing each other's clothes off and having sex on the living room floor.

"I'm not likely to forget it any time soon, eidetic memory notwithstanding."

Joan chuckled nervously. "I'm pregnant."

Her voice was so low he almost didn't hear her. When her statement registered, his instinctive excitement was eclipsed by her forlorn tone. Adam knew fear of his reaction wasn't responsible for her despondent air. She didn't want the baby. He frowned and pressed his lips together to hold back his own sadness. "How long have you known?" he asked finally because he had to say something.

"A couple of days."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to give myself time to get used to the idea. I don't know, maybe work up some enthusiasm before I told you."

"I see." They sat quietly side-by-side, staring at their laps, lost in their own thoughts. Adam wondered what he should do now. How was he supposed to deal with his pregnant wife not wanting to have the baby? Should he simply put aside his feelings and go along with whatever she decided to do? That sounded like a recipe for disaster. However, he couldn't forbid her to abort it. His mind began to spiral through a variety of scenarios: if she had the baby, aborted the baby, gave the baby up for adoption, what would happen to their marriage? As his thoughts traveled farther along the "what if" trail, Adam realized that he'd jumped the gun. Forcing his mind to stop racing, he reminded himself that he had no idea what Joan was thinking. Willing his heart to slow down, he slipped his hand into hers where it lay on her thigh.

Joan sniffled as she stared at their clasped hands, his wedding band gleaming faintly in the light. A tear dripped onto the back of his hand. Adam raised Joan's chin until he could look in her eyes. Her face covered with tearstains, a mix of guilt and misery clouded her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

It pained him to see her so unhappy. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling back and wiping the tears from her cheek. "Why?" he asked, not entirely sure what he meant by the question.

"I don't know," she wailed softly. "I know I should be happy. There are millions of women who would love to be in my position. I'm happily married. We have a wonderful little boy, a beautiful home. I don't really want for anything. Being pregnant again should be exciting and, I don't know, joyous. But I don't feel it." She dropped her gaze back to her lap after her confession. "What if something's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Jane," he assured as he gathered her in his arms.

Joan laid her head on his shoulder. Sighing, she gradually relaxed in his arms as he stroked her hair. Adam couldn't remember the last time he'd been so conflicted. Joan clearly didn't want the baby, but he didn't know if he would be okay with any other decision than keeping it. He held her closer, keenly aware of her tears seeping through his t-shirt, and prayed that this dilemma had a satisfactory solution.

"I only had another year and a half," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Now, it'll be another three, maybe four years."

"Another three or four years until what?"

"Until I can go back to work."

A light bulb lit up over his head. So that's why she doesn't want it, he thought. His anxiety began to recede.

"I had a schedule," she said, "a plan. I was going to go back to work next year. Now I can't and you still have to support all of us by yourself."

"I don't mind taking care of you and Simon, Jane. That's my job."

"We're married," she reminded, staring up at him with serious eyes. "That means we're partners. You shouldn't have to do it alone."

Adam kissed her forehead. "When's the baby due?"

"November."

"Okay," he said. "Simon will turn three the following May and the baby would be about six months by then. So by . . . when does the new school year start?"

"Late August."

"So by late August, the baby would be completely weaned. Would you breastfeed again?"

Joan gave him a small smile. "Yes."

"Jane, we could get a nanny."

"I know," she said, "but we can do that now."

"Then why don't we?" he asked, wanting to understand where she was coming from.

"Because I don't want our kids raise by some outside party."

"What?"

Turning fully toward him, Joan said earnestly, "The first few years are important in a child's life. These are formative years. I don't want some nanny putting ideas and principles in our kid's head. It's our responsibility to make sure Simon and any other children we have are . . ."

"Jane," Adam interrupted, taking her face in his hands to stop the fevered stream of her words, "what's this really about?"

"I'm trying to tell you."

"No, you're repeating lectures from your psych classes," he corrected, "which you never do. At least, you don't do that at home. So I'm going to ask again: what's really going on?"

She just stared at him. For a moment, he thought she wasn't going to answer him. Then her shoulders slumped and she looked away. "My mom didn't work when we were little."

"You're not Helen."

"I know, but . . ." she trailed off.

"But what?"

"I want to be a good mom."

"And not working is the only way to do that?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said. "It's just that I know that way works."

"So you're going to not work until our last child is school-aged even if it drives you crazy?"

"Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that," she sulked.

Chuckling, Adam kissed her cheek and gave her a little squeeze. "Employed or not, you are a good mom, Jane."

She gave him a slight smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, holding her a little closer. "So what are we going to do about the pregnancy?"

Joan blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Are we going to have it or not?" he asked, confused.

"When weren't we having it?" she asked, just as confused as him. "We were never not having it."

"We weren't?"

"No," she affirmed. "I'm not happy about being pregnant, but I never thought about not having it."

"You didn't?"

Joan laughed and took his face in her hands. "Adam, what I'm feeling right now may be temporary. By the fifth month, I could be ecstatic about being pregnant again. And, even if I'm not, this is our baby. I'm not going to punish it for our irresponsibility or my ambivalence or whatever. At the end of the year, we're going to be the parents of two, assuming nothing goes wrong."

A smile lit Adam's face. She returned it though hers wasn't as satisfied as his. Hoping her discontent dissolved soon, Adam raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "It's getting late."

"I'm going to check on Simon," she said as she stood and left the room.

Adam got in bed and waited for her. She came back a few minutes later and slipped into bed, finally snuggling in his arms. With a whispered "good night," Joan settled in for the night. He stared up at the ceiling thinking of a way to make Joan feel better about the whole situation. Eventually, he said, "Jane?"

"Hmm."

"Couldn't you work part-time? That way a nanny would only be putting ideas in our kids' heads for half a day."

"Nice," she answered sarcastically. "Mock your pregnant wife's concerns."

"Not mocking," he corrected. "Compromising."

Joan gave a little laugh and kissed his collarbone. "I'll think about it."

April 3, 2019

My lovely Jane,

Our life is full of twists and turns. Around every bend is a new opportunity to alter our course. Some of our choices have fit us perfectly, others not so well. While we can't change the past, we can modify our present to enhance our future. I know you're not happy with the way things are right now and, if you could, you'd change them. Know that I'm always here for you, that I'll learn to listen when you need me to and give my opinion or advice when you ask for it.

In the case of our children, present and future, I believe that you are capable of more than you think you are. I've watched you with Simon and I know that there's nothing to worry about. You are a fantastic mother. You watch over him like a hawk but you also encourage him to experience the world. Helen was a great mom. You more than live up to her example. Trust yourself. I do. More importantly, Simon does.

I know you're worried that I'm carrying the "burden" of supporting us. But we are partners, Jane, and, right now, we have a division of labor that's not overlapping. But that doesn't mean that either of us is slacking. We're just adjusting, finding our way. Taking baby steps toward making a go at a happy lifetime together. There will be missteps and doubts. I certainly have mine. We just have to rely on each other to stay balanced and connected.

As always, the best things in my life come from having you in it. I love you, Jane.

Adam