A problem shared...?

I hate being unfairly cast as the bad guy and I don't know why but the whole thing still hurts so much, even after five years apart. The last thing my ex-mother-in-law (to whom I was extremely close) said to me was, "I agree with my daughter - I want to rip your fucking head off." Yes, I left her son, but people don't just leave relationships if they can see a way through their problems, which I couldn't. Besides, I left him, but he divorced me and ended up with the house and most importantly our beloved spaniel, Merry - both of which I allowed him as I didn't want to hurt him any more than I had to. I wish their opinion of me was fair and informed, as I went from being a surrogate member of the family from the tender age of 16 to being despised and never spoken to again (or allowed to see Merry - my baby and, at the time, my best and only friend).

When we were engaged, I assumed that Jon and I would settle down and start a family straight away. It's what I wanted and I said I wanted two children before I was 30 which he seemed to think was a fair enough compromise. However, when I expressed my desire to get started pretty soon after we were married, Jon freaked out. He actually got angry with me for pressuring him - but I thought that after 7 years together we were ready.

Then the worst thing happened - Jon forbade me from bringing up the matter, saying that I needed to grow up and prove myself ready, and said that for every time I brought it up from then on, he would delay it by another year. What was I supposed to do! Couples are supposed to talk through their differences and difficulties, not blackmail each other into keeping schtum. Every time after our wedding that someone brought up the question of us having children, I was afraid that they would jeopardise my chances, and quickly explained that we were far too busy enjoying life and pursuing hobbies for that sort of thing yet. True, we were very tied up with hobbies - his shooting and gamekeeping and mine morris dancing, beating, rugby, choir, as well as being a workaholic teacher - but this was to keep occupied because I didn't have a baby, not the other way round.

So I spent the next 6 years patiently waiting for Jon to finally declare that he was ready and all the while proving myself to be as homely and maternal as possible, sacrificing how perhaps I would have liked to have enjoyed my 20s for fear that Jon would declare me unsuitable to bear his child and deny me what I so desperately wanted. I just wanted to be someone's mummy. I behaved how I knew he wanted me to; I got rid of party clothes at his behest; made my life revolve around him and tried to be the best wife I could be.

Eventually it was tentatively discussed and Jon reluctantly agreed that he would be ready to start trying for a baby once he had finished his PhD. I bought a baby record book, started making baby clothes and got my contraceptive implant removed. This was supposed to be exciting, but Jon did not approve nor support me and again said I was getting ahead of myself. But I was poised and ready for my patience and sacrifice in this now 12 year long relationship to finally pay off.

After a year or so of Jon working all the hours God sent (daytimes, evenings, weekends - no holidays or quality time together; he didn't even accompany me when I had eye surgery in London, nor permit me to come and visit him on our 4th wedding anniversary or his birthday when he was working away for two weeks): Jon declared his PhD deadline...which came and went...he needed an extension of a couple of months. I didn't see the harm in starting to try for a baby anyway, what difference would it make. But Jon was adamant that he was only prepared to do one thing at a time. He was testing not only my patience but my sanity now.

We went to a wedding at which his brother and new wife were also present - as they excitedly patted her heavily pregnant abdomen, I burst into tears. After their baby was born and we went to visit, Jon didn't even want me to hold the baby - he didn't trust that I could do it properly and insisted on helping me by shielding its head with his hand (which I got his brother to photograph so that I would later believe that this did really happen). Did Jon really believe me to be so incompetent and uninstinctive? I had done alright in raising our gundog puppy - our 'practice baby' - satisfactorily, and even allowed Jon to film me training her so that we could discuss and improve on my weaknesses.

I held on for the new PhD deadline...which came and went...Jon needed yet another extension. I knew this couldn't be helped if his experiments hadn't gone to plan, but I was suffering in the meantime. I couldn't conceal my feelings any longer and I spent an evening sobbing in the bath, Jon knowing exactly why but insisting I had to be patient for just a little longer.

And that's when it hit me - what next? I still believed - just - that Jon would eventually bestow a child upon me (although now without enough time to have the two before 30 that we had agreed upon - I would have been 29 at the earliest with the first). But I felt certain that once Jon no longer had this hold over me, there would always be something else. I knew he wouldn't trust me with our baby - he didn't even trust me to open a bottle of champagne - and that I would be prevented from mothering according to my instincts. What kind of mother could I be, then, if I was constantly torn between doing what felt right vs doing it how Jon wanted (rightly or wrongly)? He had no reason to be any better than I at raising a child, no more so than training a gundog - I was the one who read the books and sought advice; neither of us had owned a dog before.

That's when I realised that, for the sake of the child I was yet to conceive, I couldn't see it being possible without immense conflict with Jon. They say that becoming a mother makes you more assertive - it was starting already (or 'rebellion' as Jon told the relationship counsellor). He had already declared 'non-negotiably' what kind of schooling he wanted his child to have; what else throughout our lives was he going to dictate? I couldn't see a way out other than to get out.

This was the worst of our relationship. In every other aspect, you could say that he was, and we were perfect; you couldn't have found a more loving and devoted couple, settled contentedly in the countryside in a lovely house with promising careers and a dog I loved so much my heart could burst. This is what makes it so hard to accept my decision - but was any of it real anyway, or just a fairytale concocted of control and possession on his part and desperation on mine?