I always assumed I'd be a father. I like kids, and they tend to like me, too. Not having them had never occurred to me. Talk about a potential deal-breaker.
How in the hell had we not discussed this? We turned to therapy. Once a week, we trudged downtown to a couples therapist in Greenwich Village, who taught us to listen to each other and argue with decorum.
I knew Emily couldn't give birth because she'd suffered from Crohn's disease and ensuing complications since her early twenties, but I thought she might still be able to parent.
She explained that even before her illness she'd never wanted to be a mother. Life is hard enough, she said. How could she care for a child, and do it well, when she barely had the energy to manage herself?
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