With the whirlwind that has been my marriage to Alex, where do I even start? With a love story straight out of a corny romantic comedy, it began like a fairy tale. Of all places, we met in college. There was the traditional meet-cute at the campus café, complete with spilled coffee. When our baby finally arrived, though, things changed.
I was immersed in books when Alex and I first met, often lost in a world of daydreams and handwritten poetry. Alex, on the other hand, was the engineering wiz with a practical touch who somehow made differential equations sound very romantic.
Back then, our distinctions were endearing. While Alex was engaged in robotics projects, I was all about Emily Dickinson and poetry readings at night.
But for some reason, it simply clicked. Our dates included heated discussions about which Star Wars film is the best (the answer is obviously The Empire Strikes Back) and pleasant evenings spent in together, with me reading my most recent work while Alex fiddled with his devices. Above all, it was ours, even though it was funny and unique.
A little while later, we were there, dreams and hopes abounding, the world at our feet, and we were throwing our graduation caps into the air. Our friendship grew even closer after graduation.
Together, we handled the post-grad job hunt and moved locations before settling in Willow Creek, Alex’s hometown. Alex received a fantastic job offer there, so it felt like the right decision, and I reasoned that I could write anyplace there was a good coffee shop.
Moving to Willow Creek initially seemed like a dream come true. We discovered this quaint little apartment that was ideal for us, with enough space for his electronics and my books. However, Alex was able to be nearer to his family—especially his mother, Mrs. Harlow—by relocating to his hometown.
Don’t get me wrong; I appreciated Alex’s decision to prioritize his family. However, I had no idea how much Mrs. Harlow would actually become a part of our life.
It was difficult enough being newlyweds in a new city after college, without having to deal with an overbearing mother-in-law.
I really understood Mrs. Harlow’s need for support, as she was a widow. However, her notion of assistance soon took the form of impromptu dinner invitations, daily visits, and an endless stream of phone calls.
I initially made an effort to consider things from her viewpoint because, after all, Alex was all she had. But maintaining that empathy was harder and harder as the lines between our life and hers started to blur.
Mrs. Harlow seemed to be involved in every big decision we made, from our profession choices to how we furnished our apartment. His mother became our go-to person for everything, and it felt like our lives were being watched closely.
The true litmus test was when we made our pregnancy known. The announcement was something to celebrate, but Mrs. Harlow’s constant interference obscured the good news.
I felt marginalized in my own marriage as a result of her persistent offers to move in “to help” and her penchant for organizing “emergencies” whenever Alex and I had plans.
I made an effort to discuss it with Alex in the hopes that he would realize how much his mother’s meddling was negatively impacting our bond. However, the same question seems to come up in every conversation: “How can you not trust me to be there for you?” He told me he was only 10 minutes away at work and that he would be there for me if I went into labor.
I made the decision to test our connection during those times of uncertainty and frustration by setting off a fictitious labor alarm. I’m not proud of it now, but at the time it seemed like the only way to communicate with him. Sadly, it also validated my worst suspicions. Alex picked her when he had to choose between my call and his mother’s alleged emergency.
I picked a regular Thursday for my little experiment; it wasn’t anything exceptional. However, it proved to be the pivotal moment in our relationship.
I told Alex over the phone, my heart in my mouth, “It’s happening.” The child is on the way.”
The deafening quiet on the other end was broken by a frantic, “I’m on my way!”
I kept thinking about the mayhem on his end as the minutes seemed to drag on for hours. I imagined him hastily heading to his vehicle and driving to the hospital.
However, he had to make a different call to his mother before he could even get to the parking lot. Emily is giving birth, Mom. I’m currently on my way to the hospital.
And with that, my worst suspicions were validated. Once more, he sided with his mother over me.
After an hour, the sound of Alex’s strained voice filled our flat as my phone rang. “My mother and I are at the hospital. When I told her about the baby, she got scared. I… Em, I doubt I’ll be able to make it. Could you call your friend to come along?
His remarks confirmed what I already knew deep down, slicing into me like a knife. Not only did Alex leave me, but the idea of the family we wanted to create together also seemed abandoned.
Our issues were more complex than I had ever thought as I sat there, trying to make sense of the circumstances. It was about the deep, underlying fractures in our relationship that had existed from the beginning, not just about his mother’s interfering or my fear of giving birth.
I am therefore relying on my best friend Mia, who has always supported me, as I get ready to bring our child into the world.
Not only is Mia a friend, but she’s the sister that destiny failed to give me. Together, we have experienced everything—from the highs and lows of college to the difficulties of maturity.
She is the one who knows me the best when it comes to my labor worries, and she has supported me the entire way. She was there for me when I needed someone to talk to. She was there for me when I needed someone to hold my hand through those late-night panic attacks. She’s still at my side now that I may have to become a mother on my own without my husband’s help.
We’ll work through the challenges of childbirth and parenthood together, supporting one another at every turn. Who knows? Perhaps this will mark the start of a new chapter in my life, one in which I ultimately discover how to prioritize myself, even if it involves changing the guidelines in my marriage in the process.