Our relationship was never simple. My ex (M, early 30s) and I (F, late 20s) had been through a series of breakups and reconciliations before I discovered I was pregnant. Despite knowing we weren’t a stable couple, I told him about the pregnancy because it felt like the right thing to do.
His reaction was far from reassuring. He initially wanted me to terminate the pregnancy, insisting that it wouldn’t change our relationship status. He reminded me repeatedly that our romantic connection was over, even though we still shared a certain closeness that blurred the lines.
After weeks of emotional back-and-forth, he reluctantly agreed to be present as a co-parent if I decided to keep the baby. But his support was laced with doubts and cold comments, questioning my ability to be a good mother.
One statement in particular has stuck with me he said an “accident” ending it all might make things easier. The weight of his words was unbearable, and it left a scar I couldn’t shake.
Not long after, I started experiencing symptoms of a possible miscarriage: cramping, bleeding, and an overwhelming sense of dread. Terrified and alone, I reached out to him. He couldn’t come because he didn’t have access to a car, but he stayed in touch through text messages while I spent the night battling fear and pain on my own.
The following day, he encouraged me to go to the hospital, saying he would meet me there. I agreed, needing to confirm what my heart already suspected. When I arrived, I asked him to stay in the waiting room while I underwent the gynecological exam. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I felt I needed the privacy to process the outcome before sharing it with him.
The exam confirmed what I already knew deep down I had lost the baby. The news was crushing, but the process itself was deeply intimate and invasive. Given the state of our fractured relationship and his earlier comments about the pregnancy, I wasn’t comfortable having him there for that moment.
When I emerged from the room, he was furious. He accused me of excluding him from an experience he had a right to be part of and said my decision was proof we shouldn’t maintain any connection moving forward. His anger was palpable, and after leaving the hospital, he stopped contacting me altogether.
For several days, I grieved alone. I mourned the loss, not just of the pregnancy but of the hope I had clung to for some semblance of support or partnership from him. When he finally came to talk, it was an emotional encounter. I broke down completely. Just before leaving, he kissed me passionately, walked out the door, and cut all contact.
I understand he was grieving too, but I was left feeling shattered. His resentment, his decision to disappear after everything, and his refusal to understand my need for privacy during such a vulnerable moment have haunted me. I never meant to exclude him or cause harm, but at that time, I was doing what I thought was necessary to protect myself.
Was I wrong for setting a boundary when my world was already crumbling around me? Or was his anger misplaced, a reflection of his own inability to process the situation?