“There I stood, brandishing the pregnancy test. “You are what?” my husband said. “You were on the pill, weren’t you?” I stammered something about influenza and antibiotics and that no pill is resistant to them and hoped he believed me. He did – exactly three seconds. Because then he asked suspiciously, “Are you sure this is an accident?”
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‘Risk of the game’
We had been together for almost ten years, he knew me through and through and of course he knew very well what was going on. Will be fine as soon as he sees it’s a girl, I thought. But during the 20-week ultrasound, two balls appeared on the screen pontifcally: another boy. I could hardly hide my disappointment. “Risk of the game,” my husband responded sourly, but thank goodness he hopped through the baby department store like a happy egg.
Secretly pregnant: ‘It was the final blow to our relationship’>
Two years later
We are now more than two years later. I’m just busy with it. My husband works long hours, I am at home full time. Our youngest is a present, but if you already have two boys in primary school, it is quite difficult to take afternoon naps into account. In addition, he is in the middle of toddlerhood and is far from toilet trained.
Miraculously, the relationship with my husband did not suffer from my one-man action; I am ultimately the one who is on the blisters. My husband feels like a real dude with three sons and only has the lusts – well, except financially.
In two years my youngest will go to primary school, and I will have my life back a little bit. There will not be a fourth. My husband casually announced last month, “Oh honey, take Wednesday off next week, because then they’ll snip me. Works much better with antibiotics. ‘”
This story has previously appeared in Kek Mama.
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