I've known I wanted to have kids for so long that it feels like an essential part of my identity: future mom. Yet when I fell in love with an amazing guy three years ago, I didn't push the issue. He knew how I felt, based on my gushing about my little cousins, and I figured he wouldn't proceed with a serious relationship unless he was ready to become a parent too.

When I started to bring it up, about six months into our relationship, he was unemployed and focused on finding a job. "I can't think about that right now," he said, so I dropped it — at least, in our discussions. In my head though, I was tallying all the reasons he'd be a great dad: He loves to cook, he's an artist, he's incredibly patient and supportive and is a total goofball with his niece and nephews.

When we decided to live together, I did press the issue, because the last thing I wanted was to waste my final possible childbearing years with someone who wasn't on the same page as me. He said he'd be open to it, but the closer we got to actually stopping using birth control, the more scared he got. When I thought I was pregnant last year, he burst into tears — needless to say, not the reaction I was hoping for.

In the last year, we've settled into what I think of as a tentative truce around the topic of kids. We are technically "trying" to get pregnant, but he still isn't totally convinced it's a good idea. Whenever I gaze wistfully at an adorable baby or launch into a story about something my friend's cute kid has done, he practically rolls his eyes. He's afraid a kid is going to totally disrupt our lives, and I can't deny that's probably true. I can't make any promises about what being a parent will be like, since I've never done it; all I know is that at this stage of my life, it's become the most important goal I have.

I worry sometimes that his ambivalence doesn't bode well for us as a couple; I've always wanted a story to tell my kids like the one my dad told me: that he pulled the car over to the side of the road and told my mom he wanted to have a daughter. What am I going to tell the kid I so long for: that their dad was worried and nervous?

At the same time, I'm glad he's shared his fears and concerns, because it gives me a little more insight into what exactly he's afraid of. No, I can't totally allay his fears, but I can make space for him to share them, for us to discuss the worst-case scenarios along with the best. I've tried to assure him that I could have had a kid on my own back when I was single, but I didn't; I chose him, and I don't just want to have any old baby, I want to have his. I want to see what a child made from both of our genes and personalities and histories will look and act like.

I admit there are times when I wish he were as enthusiastic as I am; right now, I feel like I have to be guarded with him about what I'm doing to help my fertility. He's made it clear he doesn't want me to get too caught up in trying to get pregnant. I understand his concern; I don't want my dream of my future life to take over my current one, or to sacrifice the best relationship of my life in pursuit of my baby dream. But I also don't want to be skittish about going after what I want.

I've done my best to make peace with the fact that we have to agree to disagree. I 100 percent believe that when I do get pregnant (or if we have a child by other means), he will love our kid as much as he loves me and be one of the most devoted parents around. I don't tell him that too often, lest it further freak him out, but if I didn't have faith in that outcome, I wouldn't have started trying with him in the first place.

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