They had agreed on the big question. They both wanted children. Two, maybe three. They had discussed timelines and finances and the size of the house they would need. She felt a deep sense of relief that they were aligned on the fundamentals. The hard part, she assumed, was over.

Then her sister had a baby, and she watched her partner interact with the child for the first time. He was playful and affectionate, but he also made comments that unsettled her. "He just needs to cry it out. That is what my parents did, and I turned out fine." When the toddler threw a tantrum, he muttered something about how kids today need more discipline. When she mentioned that she hoped to breastfeed for at least a year, he looked surprised and said he had assumed she would go back to work after a few months, like his mother had. These were not arguments. They were small, offhand remarks. But they revealed a landscape of assumptions she had never thought to explore. They had agreed that they wanted children. They had never discussed what kind of parents they wanted to be.