I've been married to Adam for five years. Everything seems to be going well in our marriage.
We don't argue, we make plans for the future, we travel. We also don't have any financial problems: we both work and live in an apartment that my husband inherited from his grandmother.
Three months ago we found out that I was expecting a child. We had been planning a child for a long time, so we were very happy with the news. We immediately started thinking about renovating the nursery, looking for trinkets, choosing names… But, as they say, life loves to surprise. Adam had a wife before me. From his first marriage he has a son, Daniel. The boy is now seven years old and lives with his mother in another city.
I knew it from the very beginning and didn't worry about it. Well, he has a child and that's okay. He doesn't live with me, so I don't get involved in his life. I know Adam pays child support and visits his son whenever possible, but recently he's become sullen and irritable, and then he said we need to have a serious talk.
His ex had stopped dealing with her son when she started to settle down with her new fiancé. She suggested that Daniel should move in with us. It was like something clicked in my head. I looked at my husband and couldn’t believe my ears. I explained that I wasn’t ready, that I was going to have a child of my own soon, but he was stubborn. He said that it was his son and he wouldn’t leave him in this situation. But I think a child should live with its mother!
A heavy silence fell on the room. Adam got up and went to the bedroom, slamming the door. I stayed at the table, trying not to cry. The next day, my husband didn’t even mention yesterday’s conversation. I was silent too. But this subject is like a thorn in the side. You keep quiet, but it still hurts. A few weeks later, my husband brought up the subject again. – I'm going to pick up Daniel next week.
-Adam, did you even hear what I said? – I couldn't stand it. – I'm not ready! You didn't ask me, you decided for both of us. He lives with his mother, so let him stay there.
Adam looked at me like I was a stranger. “You don't understand,” he said quietly, “and you never will. After all, it's not your apartment and you don't decide who lives here.” After that conversation, our arguments became everyday. Tears, insults. On the one hand, I understand that it's his child and he's worried about it. But on the other hand, what about me? I'm his wife, we'll have our own child. Why did my feelings suddenly stop being important?
A few days later, Adam went to pick up Daniel. Now the three of us live together. To be more precise, they live together, and I just exist in this apartment. Daniel is a good and calm boy, but I can't accept him. I look at him and everything inside turns upside down. I feel terrible because the child is innocent. Adam sees that I'm distant. He gets angry, but doesn't say anything.
We stopped talking. I live on autopilot. Every day I think that maybe it's even better this way: him with his son, me with the child. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that our marriage is hanging by a thread. And if we don't find a common language, those hairs will snap sooner or later.
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