Talking, Talking, Talking in Journal

I resent having to ask the hard questions and then getting attacked for it.
We have a great conversation about our son’s naming- my hero and idol in the realm of science, a certain Austrian doctor who I won’t name here because it’s a very unique name. And I mention another Great- a German philosopher who I adore and haven’t yet read enough of for my liking- and I mention that if I had another son I’d name him after that man.
And DH scoffs “never gonna happen.”
I frown, “What do you mean?” I ask. I was genuinely curious if he meant the name was ridiculous or the thought of having another child.
“No more kids.” he quipped. “Just stop.”
Now I’m really frowning. I’m feeling insulted, rejected, dismissed, and misunderstood. And this is where I really should have expressed that. I absolutely should have paused and told him exactly that- ‘I’m feeling insulted, rejected, dismissed and misunderstood.’
But, I didn’t.
Instead, I pursued a tangent that turned out to be utterly unproductive. At the end of that tangent, we were both incredibly frustrated and hurt that neither of us were really listening to the other.
And that was when I finally turned back and expressed how I was feeling. It was too late, though. We were both too worked up about defending ourselves against the other’s refusal to understand our position.
And here I sit, trying to find a way to bridge that gap.