After we married, B. and I started to enjoy our new "adult" life. Growing up in Queens, NY, we'd always lived a simple, but satisfying life, so our idea of "jet-setting" involved a honeymoon in Barbados, a trip to Disney World in Orlando FL and weekends in the Hamptons on Long Island during the summer. We were a good fit, she and I. We liked the same things, and grew to like more of the same things. We shared many of the same friends and spent a lot of time socializing and entertaining.
There was one little dark cloud in our otherwise sunny lives to that point. Part of B's plans included children and we were beginning to figure out that there was maybe a little bit more at work than just bad luck when it came to our lack of success in conceiving.
It was our first obstacle. It was something we needed to seek help for, but it was the first time we'd come across a problem we couldn't fix ourselves "with love alone". It wasn't, however, a situation where I was concerned about fixing blame. Not at all. But it did become an early sign that blame wasn't invisible to both of us.