"So, Ben, why don't you tell me when the troubles in your marriage began." Getting comfortable in his chair, the counselor opened his journal to a blank page and clicked a pen open. He had done this countless times before with countless couples. To him, we are just another divorce waiting to happen.
I pondered this question for several moments, almost mentioning a certain point of conflict in my marriage, but immediately remembering another that came before it. It had been troubled for so long that-
"it feels like it's always been troubled. We spent our wedding night in separate rooms."
The counselor grunted in response, took a beat, then rephrased his prompt.
"Do you know why the troubles in your marriage began?"
Of course, I know why they began, but I felt awful for thinking so. Actually, it was Meredith who made me feel awful for my assessment of why the troubles in our marriage began. It's not that I blame her, at least I don't want to blame her, but when you really think about it…
Ben?", the counselor called me out of my contemplation, reminding me that he had posed a question. A question I was meant to answer. But, would he tell Meredith my answer when he conducts her solo session? If he did, then all of this would be pointless as saying it aloud to a stranger would make it perfectly clear to her that she is the one on whom I place the blame.
"I don't really know. We just disagreed on some pretty", I searched my mind for the right word, "fundamental things."
"Like what?" The counselor obviously wasn't satisfied with my obvious evasion of his question.
I'm just going to tell him. I know that it's going to hurt Mer if he tells her what I'm about to say, but he can't help us if I'm not completely honest with him.
"Two days before we got married, Meredith told me that she didn't want kids."
"Had she not told you this before?"
"No. But, thinking back, I should've realized it. Every time I would bring it up, she would go quiet or find some way to change the subject."
"Hm. In what ways did you bring it up?"
"Sometimes it would be lighthearted stuff like 'we would spoil our kid rotten' or 'we'd make great parents'. Other times, it would be when we were alone, and I would try to have a more serious conversation with her about it. I would ask her how many she wanted or if she even wanted them at all. She would just say she didn't know or that, if she did, it wouldn't be for a very long time. I always thought it just wasn't something she cared to discuss in great detail at that point in our relationship. I should've realized that her dodging was because she didn't want to tell me that she didn't want them at all."
The counselor nodded and wrote something in his journal. "Is having children important to you?"
"Of course it is. I always saw myself being a dad. Even more so when I met Meredith."
"If Meredith had told you this earlier on in the relationship, would it have been a deal breaker for you?"
I didn't want to say yes or no because, in reality, I wasn't sure. Meredith is the only person I've ever loved and ever will love. Ever since I met her, I knew that I didn't want to spend another day without her. However, it would have been hard to agree with the fact that I would never get to start a family with her.
I stumbled through my words as I struggled with my answer. "I-I mean I love her and-nothing could change that, but- I don't know, maybe it would've been, but- I'd like to think that, if she'd have just been honest with me…I don't know. I don't know."
"What hurts you the most? The fact that she doesn't want kids, or the fact that she hid that from you for so long?"
"Definitely her keeping it from me. There has never been a point where I was mad at her for making choices about the way she wanted her life to be. I mean, hell, she decided to prioritize financial stability over what she really wanted to do, and, as much as I wish she would've kept writing, I respected her decision. But she did take away my decision to be in a marriage with someone who didn't want to start a family. I know she didn't mean it this way but, it feels like she manipulated me."
"A breach of trust is hard to recover from", the counselor furrowed his brows and leaned forward, urging me to elaborate on how I felt about this.
"Yeah. I just feel stuck." I thought back to the night before our wedding. I told her that I didn't know what to do, and she sat in front of me for hours begging me not to leave her. "I've felt stuck since she told me. I don't know how to move forward, but we can't stay stagnant."
Another note in the counselor's journal. "What would staying stagnant look like?"
"Staying under the same roof, but living separate lives. Continuing to act like our problems are bigger than us. Constantly hurting each other in an effort to make things better."
"And what would going forward look like?"
"Either me figuring out how to accept the fact that I'll never have kids in order to stay with her, or", I don't want to say this aloud, "going through with a divorce."
"Is that something you've ever thought about?"
"Sure. But there's no guarantee that I'll find someone else." Someone else. "Not that I want someone else."
The counselor began to close his journal. My hour was up. I didn't say much, but I admitted more than I wanted to.
"Then you have to make a choice; and, you need to make this choice before we continue. The weeks to come will be emotionally draining, but they will be fruitless if you don't know the answer to this question: which is more important to you, a life with Meredith or a life as a father?"