BPD Chronicles

After D walked out on our conversation about children, I couldn’t sleep. My mind raced in circles, replaying everything she’d said — or hadn’t said. I felt betrayed. Not in an angry way, but in the quiet, sinking kind of way — like something I had built my future on had quietly unraveled beneath me.

She seemed unfazed. Like it wasn’t a big deal. And that made it feel even more confusing — like maybe it had been a test. Or maybe she truly didn’t understand how much those words had shaken me.

I brought it up again a few days later. Then again after that. Not to pressure her — but to understand. Was this fear? Was she unsure? Did she still want kids deep down but wasn’t ready? Could this be temporary?

She kept saying the same thing: “I’m not ready. I don’t want to change my body.”

Later, she added another reason — one that surprised me less: “I want to build a career. Having kids would affect that.”

I told her that yes, motherhood changes things — but so does life itself. That millions of women work and raise children. That family, friends, or daycare can help when needed. That it’s not an either/or choice — it’s a matter of support and balance.

And honestly, it wasn’t even about necessity. We were financially secure. She wanted to work because it gave her purpose. I supported that. I always had.

But this was different.

This was about us . About the future we had planned together.

So finally, after weeks of back-and-forth, I gave her an ultimatum — not as a threat, but as a plea. If she truly didn’t want children, then we needed to face that now. Because for me, this wasn’t negotiable. It wasn’t something I could grow into later. I wanted to be there — fully — for every moment of my children’s lives. I gave her two weeks to think about it and give me her answer.

Around the same time, my company planned a team meetup in the U.S. — something I had to attend. When I mentioned it to D, I suggested she use the opportunity to visit her home country and see her family. She lit up at the idea.

Then, I talked to my own family — my parents, sister, nephews — and convinced them to make this trip a shared experience. Given my father’s age and declining health, it might be his last chance to travel. After nearly ten days of convincing, we all agreed: we were going to D’s home country together.

Something shifted in her during the planning. Maybe it was the excitement of being around family again. Maybe it was seeing us come together. But one night, she came to me and said, “Maybe I’m ready. Maybe I do want to start trying for kids.”

It felt like she needed the weight of that moment — of being surrounded by love, connection, and family — to say yes again.

Still, I wanted to leave the door open.

I told her, “We’re going to your home country. If anything changes — if you decide again that this isn’t what you want — you don’t have to come back with us. You’re not obligated to stay.”

I said it not to push her away, but to protect myself from walking further into a life she wasn’t committed to.

To be continued…