Three weeks before the due date, Marcus and I had the worst fight of the new version of our relationship.
It was not about Vivienne. It was about a work decision I had made without consulting him, a large commission that would require significant travel in the first six months after the birth. He said he thought we had agreed to discuss big decisions. I said I had not agreed to have my career vetted by my husband. He said that was not what he meant. I said then he needed to say what he meant more clearly.
We raised our voices. We both said things that were pointed. Then we both went quiet.
Then Marcus did something I had never seen him do in five years of marriage: he stopped the argument mid-escalation and said, "I don't want to fight like we used to fight. Can we start over?"
I looke
