I looked at him with gentle eyes. “I knew that sweetheart, but you needed to acknowledge it.”
“But I don’t want to be a little boy all the time.” He said rather sulkily.
“I know it will take some time for you to adjust sweetheart, but Mummy and Aunty Sandra will help you. Mummy’s going to be in charge now, and she knows what to do. You’re going to be quite safe as long as you obey Mummy.”
Over the next hour he asked me a number of questions and I reassured him he was allowed to play grown ups when others were around and of course when he was at work, but when he is just with me [or Sandra ]just Sandra he will be treated like a two year old baby.

Poor Jason, He had been so anxious during our conversation that he wet in his pajama pants, which I did not discover until the morning when I put him in a nappy and sent him of to work. He had lain there all night in wet pants and with a wet patch on the sheet and he was too ashamed to tell me about it. Well I have plans that will solve that problem for him!
My plan at long last is underway. Perhaps I needed the energy my anger gave me.

Feeling calmer today after talking with Sandra and having a surprisingly good night sleep. I realize that some of my anger towards Jason may be a bit irrational after all it’s not really his fault he’s infertile. On the other hand my determination to change our relationship is stronger than ever. His action of throwing away the pamphlet on being a donor recipient without even discussing it with me, is typical male arrogance, as though my thoughts and feelings were not important Well Jason got a few lessons to learn and he is going to go back to the nursery to learn them. By the time Sandra and I have finished with him he will have learnt a bit of humility and come to understand that in the nursery, women rule, and pleasing Mummy or baby sitter is the most important thing a little boy can do.

Picked up Jason after work yesterday for our appointment. When we got there we were ushered straight into the Doctors room. The Doctor, a kindly looking man in his mid fifties gently explained to us both that there was no point in us proceeding as Jasons sperm count was so low that he was basically infertile. He talked to us for another twenty minutes telling us that an other option was that we could use another donors semen and that they could do a good match in terms of Jasons hair and eye colour, education level etc.

I was in such a state of shock that I didn’t take in much of what he was saying. It had never occurred to me that Jason was infertile I had naively assumed that if Jason was able to produce semen then we were okay, but apparently not. He gave us a pamphlet to take home explaining the donor service.

Neither of us said much as we drove home. I felt angry and I still do. I feel betrayed by Jason. I really wonder if his inability to produce sperm is caused by his deep immaturity, his desire to be a baby himself, the subconscious can have a powerful effect on the body. The truth is Jason is a sham of a man, it’s all outward appearance and no substance. Instead of wanting to claim me, possess me, and love me as his woman, he wants me to be his Mummy, to but him in a nappy, nurse him at my breast, talk to him as if he were an infant and then when he feels ashamed of his infantile behavior he comes across with his macho domineering stuff. The last straw for me was last night, without asking me, he threw the pamphlet we had been given on getting donor semen into the waste paper basket. I found it some hours later. He hadn’t even discussed it with me before he had decided that we would not go down that road because HE did not want another mans semen in my body. No thought for me, or what I want. I am more determined than ever things are going to change.