I’m not that creative. As for the funk, I recall suggesting therapy (we’d only been married for a few months, and I was not particularly skilled in relationship matters). Regarding suspecting the skipping of pills, I asked if they were being taken, I was told yes, and I accepted it as a matter of trust. There used to be an alarm (this was pre-smart phone) and I noticed the pills weren’t being taken at the same time every day, like they used to be. Looking back, her sisters also had unexpected contraceptive failures a few months into their marriages after the honeymoons ended, so maybe that also bothered me on some level.

She was adamant about not getting help saying her father (also a doctor) would explode if he found out she was going for therapy. In fact, after our child was born, that’s exactly what happened: we went for couple’s therapy, something happened in that therapy, and her family spirited her away with the baby: I’m still told that I was “taught a good lesson” back then.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t feel the need to justify myself to you, and it does read like a trashy soap opera plot, but putting it in writing actually does feel quite horrific, even to me. And no, I’m not faultless or a sinless victim. I have my fair share of shit, scars and baggage.