Baby proof

guitar-playing days lasted on the off chance that babies are just Ben's current fixation. Or maybe he's just a little restless or bored or looking for something to fill a void. This would fit with one of my theories of why some couples-even the ones so ill-suited to be parents-have children. The theory is that part of the baby allure might have to do with our society's focus on 'firsts.' With benchmarks and rites of passage. We have our first kiss, first relationship, high school graduation, college, college graduation, first job, wedding, first home. Having a child just seems to be the next thing remaining in the progression of life, the only momentous step left to take. Or maybe couples just want to vicariously experience all those great firsts again through their children. Relive the highs and erase their mistakes. I'm not saying all couples have a baby for these reasons-most truly want to be parents-but I think some do.

In case Ben falls into this category, I make a point to work a little less and see to it that our life together is as full and fun as possible. I see to it that we do all the things we have always done together, but with greater intensity and frequency. I make reservations at new restaurants and take us to hear great music and see fabulous art. I plan weekend getaways to the Berkshires and the Hamptons.

Most important, I follow Jess's advice and keep our sex life strong. Jess is a huge believer in sex as a panacea to any problem-which is why she is so convinced that Trey is going to leave his wife any day now (she claims to be that good).

One night in particular, I wear my best lingerie and initiate the sort of lovemaking that is worthy of a lifetime highlight reel. All the while, I am feeling our crazy chemical connection, the part of our relationship that has felt lacking since our trip to St. John. I am sure that this effort will turn the tide back in my favor.

Afterward, my mind is blissfully blank. Then it drifts back to babies. I resist the urge to point out the obvious-that a child might jeopardize our love life. That we'd have little time or energy for sex. That we wouldn't be able to put each other first anymore. Surely Ben must be thinking the same thing when he kisses the top of my head and mumbles, 'I love you, Claudia… Sweet dreams.'

'You, too,' I say, feeling myself drift off.

That's when Ben rolls toward me and says, 'Claudia, if we have this baby, I promise you will be the first woman in the history of the world not to lose a wink of sleep.'

It is very unlike Ben to talk at all after we make love, so I'm especially irritated that he is breaking his typical male pattern with this gem. I can feel all my muscles tense as I say, 'For heaven's sake, Ben. This isn't a puppy we're talking about.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' he says.

'You act as if you're offering to walk a damn beagle in the middle of the night! We're talking about a baby here!'

'I know that,' Ben says.

'A baby that will completely change my life. Our life.'

'I know that,' Ben says again. 'But our life will change for the better. I promise you that.'

'You can't promise something like that,' I say. 'It's a ludicrous, impossible promise to make. You have no idea what having a child will do to us. Besides, there are many, many other reasons I don't want kids-aside from my love of sleep.'

'Okay. Like what?' Ben says.

'We've been over them before,' I say, not wanting to rehash my reasons or hold them up to scrutiny. 'Many times.'

But he presses me so I start out with an easy, albeit shallow one. I tell him that I don't want to be pregnant.

'Pregnant women are beautiful,' he says.

I roll my eyes.

'Besides, you'll only be pregnant for nine months. A blip on the radar of life.'

'Easy for you to say. I don't want to be invaded like that, no matter how short the time frame… And I like working out,' I say. I know this reason is a bit on the lame side, especially considering the fact that I haven't even been to the gym in weeks.

'You can work out when you're pregnant, ya know,' he says.

'Yeah, right. I've seen those women, laboring at a fast walk on the treadmill. They look miserable… And you know I'm thinking of running the New York marathon. Maybe next year. It's something I've always wanted to do,' I say, which is true in theory. Running a marathon is one of my lifetime goals. But to date, I've never made it past four miles. I'm not very naturally athletic, unlike Ben, who runs and swims effortlessly. Still, when I see elderly and disabled people crossing the finish line every year, I figure I can do it, too. Someday.

'Well, we could always adopt a baby,' he says.

'That's not the point, and you know it. The pregnancy is the least of it.'

'Okay,' he says. 'So we don't have to have a baby immediately. I mean, we can wait a few years to do this. I don't need to have one now. I just want you to tell me that you're open to the idea of it.'

I see a loophole and am tempted to buy myself some time. I could 'think about it' for years and then just say that I'm off the pill. I could get us to forty and hope for infertility to kick in. Solve the problem naturally. But I refuse to be dishonest. We have no relationship without honesty. So I tell him the truth-that I'm not going to change my mind.

Ben seems to ignore this statement altogether and instead asks me for another reason.

I humor him and say, 'Okay. I like living in the city.'

He sits up in bed and says, 'We can have a baby in the city.'

I admire the silhouette of his shoulders as I say, 'Not very easily. We'd need to get a bigger place, and we can't really afford to do that.'

'Well, don't you ever feel like you're sort of over living in Manhattan? We both grew up in the suburbs, after all. Wouldn't it be nice to return to our roots? Have a yard again? Trees and squirrels and some peace and quiet?'

'Okay, now you're talking crazy,' I say. 'We love living in the city.'

'I know, but-'

'I don't want to move,' I say, feeling panicked just thinking about it. I have visions of Volvos and PTA meetings and camcorders at soccer games and family dinners at the Olive Garden. Now I am sitting up, too. 'I'm not going to move to the suburbs.'

'Fine,' Ben says, nodding. 'We could have a baby in Manhattan. People do it all the time. We would just find a bigger apartment and make it work financially. So that's not a valid reason. Name another.'

I exhale loudly and say, 'Okay. My career.'

I have saved the big guns for last. I have worked way, way too hard to jeopardize everything for children. I've seen it happen many times, even to the editors who are determined to stay on the fast track. They have to leave work early, they can't sacrifice their weekends, and they inevitably seem to lose their edge, their hunger. It just happens that way. I don't know why that is-whether they've reprioritized or simply don't have the energy to do better. But I don't want to find out… and I certainly don't want to join the ranks of seemingly miserable working mothers who strive to have it all and end up frustrated, exhausted, and guilt-ridden.

'What about your career?' he says, all innocence.

'A baby would impact it,' I say.

'I told you-I can stay at home for a while. Or we can hire a nanny. You don't have to quit your job. You don't even have to go part-time. There are lots of working moms out there. You can have both.'

'But I don't want both. See? That's the thing you don't seem to get. Having both means doing nothing very well.'

'But you'd be an awesome mother, Claude,' he says.

'I don't want to be a mother,' I say with as much conviction as I can muster. 'I'm sorry if that makes me selfish. But what I think is way worse-way more selfish-is having a child when you're not fully committed to the idea of it. And I'm just not on board with this plan of yours, Ben.'

'Not now?' he says, reclining again.