I thought I knew everything about my spouse until I overheard his mother and sister having a shit discussion. My life fell apart when Peter revealed our first child’s secret. I questioned everything we created together.
Peter and I were married three years. I wanted nothing more than his smarts, wit, and kindness. When I became pregnant with our first kid a few months later, it seemed fated.
Our lives seemed wonderful as Peter and I awaited our second child. Things haven’t been as easy as they seem.
Peter is German, I’m American.
The disparities between us first excited me. Peter’s career sent him back to Germany, so we relocated there with our first kid. I expected a new start, but it wasn’t easy.
Germany was lovely. Peter loved returning to his homeland. Yet I struggled. I missed family and friends. Peter’s family was courteous at best. Ingrid and Klaus, his parents, spoke little English, but I spoke more German than they thought.
I first didn’t mind the language barrier. I thought it would give me time to learn German and fit in. But then came the comments.
Ingrid and Klara, Peter’s sister, visited regularly. German chatter ensued. While cooking or playing with our kid, I pretended not to notice when their talk turned to me.
Ingrid replied, “That dress doesn’t suit her at all,” without lowering her voice.
“She’s gained so much weight with this pregnancy,” Klara smirked.
I reflexively ran my hands over my dress as I looked down at my developing tummy. Yes, I was pregnant. Yes, I gained weight.
Still, their remarks stung. I never showed that I could comprehend them. I didn’t want to cause a scene, but I was intrigued how far they’d go.
Then one afternoon, I heard something worse.
“She looks tired,” Ingrid said, pouring tea as Klara nodded. “I wonder how she’ll handle two kids.”
Klara leaned forward and lowered her voice. I’m unsure about that first baby. He looks nothing like Peter.”
Standing out of sight, I froze. My stomach sank. They mentioned our kid.
Ingrid sighed. “His red hair is not from our family.”
Klara laughed. “Maybe she didn’t tell Peter everything.”
I stood motionless, shocked, while they laughed softly. How could they say that? Instead of shouting to defend myself and tell them they were incorrect, I remained mute, shivering. I had no clue how to respond.
After we had our second child, their following visit was the worst. Juggling a baby and a restless toddler exhausted me. Ingrid and Klara arrived with smiles and greetings, but I sensed trouble. When I wasn’t looking, they whispered, and the air was heavy with tension.
I heard their muffled conversations while nursing the baby in the other room. Listening intently, I leaned against the door.
Does she still not know? Ingrid murmured.
A lovely chuckle from Klara. Of course not. Peter lied to her about the first baby.”
My heart jumped. The truth? Our first child? What were they discussing?
My pulse raced and I felt uneasy. Eavesdropping was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. What were they discussing? I wanted to comprehend, but as they switched rooms, their voices got fainter. I was transfixed, my mind spinning.
What did Peter not tell me? What was this “truth” regarding our first child?
I rose up unsteadily and beckoned Peter into the kitchen. My urgent voice confused him as he entered. I had trouble maintaining my tone.
“What is this about our first baby, Peter?” I muttered. What have you concealed?
Pale, his eyes bulging in dread. For a time, he was silent. After sighing, he sat with his face in his hands.
Something you don’t know,” Peter stared at me, showing guilt. He opened his lips to speak but stopped, looking down. “You gave birth to our first…” He stopped, inhaling. “My family pressured me to get a paternity test.”
I glanced at him, attempting to comprehend his words. A paternity test? In hopes of understanding, I repeated gently. “Why? Why would—?
They thought… He remarked, “The timing was too close to when you ended your last relationship,” his voice cracking. As for the red hair… It was denied that the baby was mine.”
My head spun as I blinked. You took a test? Behind my back?”
Shaking hands, Peter stepped up. Not because I didn’t trust you! “I never doubted you,” he answered hastily. My relatives wouldn’t let go. They were certain something was wrong. Keep pushing me. Not knowing how to stop it.”
“And what did the test say, Peter?” My voice rose as I asked. “It said what?”
Swallowing hard, his eyes filled with sadness. It said that I was not the father.
The room seemed encroaching. “What?” Trying to breathe, I muttered. I never cheated on you! How could—”
Peter moved closer, wanting to explain. It didn’t make sense to me either. I know the baby is mine in all ways. The test resulted in a negative result. When I said it was positive, my family didn’t trust me. I must confess.”
My body shook as I left him. “You believed it too? For years? You didn’t tell me? It must be wrong!” I sobbed, feeling like the earth had vanished. “We need another test! We must—
Peter’s face crumbled as he grabbed for my hands, but I denied him. He said, staring into my eyes, “How come you don’t see it?” “The timing… We began dating just after your breakup. You must have became pregnant unknowingly. The test didn’t affect my feelings for you or our kid. I didn’t care about ownership. I gladly welcomed him because I wanted you.”
Shaking my head, tears fell. I shakily continued, “You should’ve trusted me.” “I never suspected he wasn’t yours. Would I? His upbringing has been shared. You fathered him. Peter, you lied to me instead of helping me. You kept this hidden while I was blind.”
“I know,” Peter muttered, regretting. “I was scared. But a family with you was my first priority. My folks wouldn’t let it go, but I didn’t want you to believe I doubted you. Never doubted you.”
Feeling breathless, I retreated. “I need air.”
Peter reached out, but I pulled away and left the kitchen for the cold night air. The air touched my face, but it didn’t calm my inner turmoil.
He did this how? I remembered how Peter had held our kid at birth and how much he loved him. None of it matched what he just said. My heart was broken, deceived, and uncertain.
I stood outside looking at the sky, trying to make sense of it all. I wanted to shout or cry, but I knew Peter wasn’t heartless. He was scared.
After family pressure, he made a poor choice—hiding the truth from me. However, he had been with me and our kid for years. He lied out of fear, not malice.
I breathed deeply after wiping my tears. I needed to return inside. We couldn’t leave things broken with so much at risk.
I returned to the kitchen to find Peter at the table with his head in his hands. He glanced up at me, his eyes puffy and red with weeping.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. I’m sorry.”
I inhaled and nodded. I needed time to recover, but we couldn’t throw away all we’d created. I adored him against our family.
“We’ll figure it out,” I murmured. “Together.”
