Rites revenge

Dear Cary,

It seems I have a problem. Indeed, I'm well and truly spitted on the horns of a dilemma.

I'm married to the most wonderful woman in the world. Far from just being my wife, she's my best friend. We've been married for six years, together for 10, and these past 10 years have been simply glorious. We complement each other perfectly. I love our life together. And the sex is fantastic.

But the best part of our marriage is that we're both completely open and honest with each other. There are no secrets. When we fight (and hey, some fights are inevitable) we try and get the issues out in the open where they can be discussed. Better to suffer the pain of tending the wound while it is fresh than to let it fester and get worse with time. It may hurt more at first, but we never go to bed mad at each other. And when we're at loggerheads over something, I do my damnedest to place myself in her shoes, to see the issue through her eyes -- and if it turns out that I'm wrong, I do my best to swallow my pride and make things right.

And this is where the horns that are spitting me come from. I'm caught in a situation where I can see both sides of the issue, where I can see that both positions have strong merits, and where there is no clear path forward.

I don't like children. Not in the slightest. I have not a single paternal bone in my body. I don't find babies cute, I have no desire to change a diaper, I take no joy in anything associated with parenting. Most of my friends have had children fairly recently, and while each and every one of them sings the joy of becoming a parent, my own observations of them in action tell a far different story -- and serve to reinforce that opinion. I do not want a child of my own.

That's a difficult thing to say. One might as well admit to pedophilia or express an admiration for Hitler. Certainly when the polite inquiries as to when we are going to start our brood start yet again (which drive me freakin' nuts) I feel I have to reply in some vague noncommittal manner rather than express my true feelings on the subject.

With everyone except my wife, that is. With her, I have always been completely open about my not wanting kids. How could I not tell her? Keeping that secret would be a betrayal of the worst sort.

Up until last week, she has also maintained that she wasn't ready for kids. She has a career, I have a career, we don't have room in our apartment and, like me, she loves our life together.

But last weekend, she dropped the bombshell that when her contraceptive prescription ran out, she neglected to have it refilled -- and she further expressed the opinion that she would not have objected had she become pregnant.

I was floored -- not because of the reversal in opinion (I have always expected that this day would come) but because she had exposed us to the risk of becoming pregnant without giving me any say in the matter. I was furious, and she apologized and promised to get her prescription renewed. I'm still seething underneath, partially because I don't think she really feels she did anything wrong (she claims that it takes months for the contraceptives to be flushed from her system, so we were never really at risk -- and I disagree with that risk assessment) but truth be told, I'll get over it. It's not like I've never done anything dumb.

But this incident did lead to a discussion of our future plans re: reproduction, and she made it clear that her maternal instincts have fired up, and that while she's not at the point where she wants a child "right now," she would certainly welcome any pregnancy that might happen.

I, on the other hand, would see a pregnancy as an unmitigated disaster. Any child of mine is, by definition, unwanted.

And here come the horns: I feel very strongly that a child has a basic right to two parents that wanted that child very much, two parents that will happily suck up the burdens and challenges to their own lives that come along with raising a child. I know that I cannot provide that. Oh, if a pregnancy occurred, I would do my duty and do my best to fake it (the child cannot be put back into the bottle and deserves my best efforts), but children are people, and people are not stupid. No matter how good an act I might do, they'll pick up on the fact that I didn't want them eventually, and then my child and a future successor of yours get to have a conversation about how "My father never wanted me!"

I know what that's like. No child deserves that.

But on the other hand, motherhood is one of those major defining points for women. It is (so I'm told) this wonderful experience that all women look forward to. What right do I have to deny my wife that experience? Why should she be cheated of having a child, of raising that child, of watching that child grow to become an adult?

If I give her that child, I make myself miserable and quite probably will make the child miserable as well. If I stick to my guns, I cheat my wife of life's rarest gifts. No matter what I do, I'm a right bastard, and I need some outside insight.

I've tried talking to my friends, but those that have children swear up and down that I'll change my mind as soon as the child is born. That seems like a hell of a gamble. What if the child is born and no magical conversion takes place? Then what? I can't very well take it back.

My wife says that she can happily live a childless life, that she loves me and our life together more than she needs a child. She's sorry and sad that I feel the way I do, but she can live with it -- didn't I mention that she's the greatest woman in the world? But I don't want her to be sorry and sad. I want to give her what she wants -- I just don't think that I can do so without making myself miserable and ruining the life of a child.

Gored

Dear Gored,

The horns of your dilemma are not as pointed and deadly as they appear. The picture you paint is quite vexing and painful, but reality needn't be so colored by the brutally sharp distinctions you draw. Your life will not be ruined if children come along, and you, having shown yourself to be careful, thoughtful and compassionate, are not likely to ruin the life of your child. If kids did come your way, as your friends suggest, you would probably rise to the occasion. People do.

So if your wife really, really, really wants to have kids, I think you should try to open your heart to the possibility. I'm not saying you should have kids, but you should try to open your heart to the possibility and see how far you get. Work at it with a sharp chisel. See if you can pry it open just a tiny bit. You don't have to love children in general; all you have to do is try to imagine doing what's asked of you by life -- if life should come calling. Fatherhood, should it arrive, might be surprisingly upsetting, emotional, difficult; it might call forth fears and pains you thought had gone forever. It might call forth shame and anger. But I think it is unlikely that you are doomed to be a terrible father; anyone who can write so piercingly of his own feelings, and who has such a strong relationship with his wife, is probably capable of adapting to the possibility. Life would go on. It might even, at times, be mildly amusing.

In thinking the matter over, it would be helpful to come up with constructive methods by which you could, in a fair and ethical way, pare down your fatherhood duties to something you think you could handle. For instance, how much help could you afford to hire? In your case, the more the better. Do you and your wife have family who would help with the raising?

One thing troubles me -- your allusion to knowing what it's like to be an unwanted child. Were you an unwanted child, or do you feel yourself to be? If so, your past experiences may be bearing on your current feelings to a greater degree than you are aware. At such a crucial juncture, even though you display an almost virtuosic command of marital communication, it really couldn't hurt to get some counseling, to find out if maybe there are issues inside of the issues.

Oh -- one other thing: what your wife did. It wasn't really a great thing to do, but it sounds like a very human thing: to passively acquiesce to desires that have caught you by surprise. So it's very good of you to forgive her, however much of a start it must have given you!

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