by Ariel Stephens

Created on: August 27, 2009

Greg and I had been married almost 2 years when we found out we were expecting. Though incredibly thrilled, we both worked full time jobs, devoted time to ministries at church, and Greg was pursing a promotion that would aid more financially once the baby arrived. Tack on pregnancy mood swings and we were spent.

One night after work I came home craving fettuccini Alfredo. I picked up a box on the way home at the grocery store and even called my husband to see if he wanted anything.

"No. Whatever you want is fine," he said. I hung up and congratulated myself on thinking about my husband.

"Hey," Greg said from the couch completely absorbed in his video game.

"Hey," I said my mind focused on fettuccini. I filled a pot with water and set it on the oven with a loud clank. As the water boiled I scanned the fridge for butter and milk. I found the butter.

"Where's the milk?" I asked my tone tinged with aggrevation. It'd been a long day and at 12 weeks pregnant I had a foul mood bubbling inside.

"Um, I drank it," Greg replied like I should know what milk is for.

No kidding.

"Are you serious? I need milk to make my fettuccini!" I spat at him. "I was even at the grocery store and I told you what I was getting and if you knew we were out of milk why didn't you tell me to get some!"

"Why didn't you just pick some up if you knew you needed it?" He replied just as angry. "We were nearly out anyway."

This was not about me. "You still could have told me. Now I have to go back to the store!"

"I'll go get some if you can wait," he huffed.

"Forget it, I'll go," I furiously grabbed my wallet and keys. "You need to think learn to think Greg," and I stormed out.

I felt so discarded, worthless, and unloved. It wasn't just forgetting the milk; it was forgetting me and my needs. I'm sure my expectations had inflated because of the pregnancy, but still. He should have thought about me. In fact, he should be thinking about me more because I have to carry our child and put up with the

I kept myself composed at the store but when I got home Greg was still on the couch. I slammed the milk on the counter and flung myself on my bed and sobbed. How could I have married someone so thoughtless, so rude? Most of all I was upset that we were fighting. I mean, I knew we'd fight but I wanted calm, thought-out disagreements with no yelling or accusing and loving, sincere apologies complete with hugs and maybe a little makeup sex. Not cage matches. Besides, isn't that what every couple

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>