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| A rare prebaby date photo. Now we'd be trying to make sure Reuben didn't eat the table! |
I remember thinking in my head that this advice was crazy. After all, Brian and I have a tight marriage. In the three years we've been together we've had few fights, all that were resolved fairly quickly. No way would I abandon the needs of my husband, even with a new squish!
Fast-forward 6 months. I certainly understand their advice now. Not only have I struggled with loneliness, depression, anxiety and despair since giving birth, but I know for a fact my husband has too.
I am very busy taking care of a little one whose basic needs must be met by me. I had no idea what I was getting into, and while I honestly can say I love most of it--I won't downplay the sheer exasperation factor.
I miss my husband. I would love to spend a evening picking his brain without scooping up a fussy teething baby. I would love to lounge around in bed with him wearing nothing for a few hours without checking on my sleeping offspring every 10 minutes. I miss him.
It's a season, I know. A surprising one. I knew that motherhood was lonely, and I expected to be isolated a bit from friends as I can't pick up and go for coffee and I most certainly can't go out at night with a newborn--but this isn't just light isolation. It's a war zone and you are in solitary confinement.
I didn't know that motherhood would isolate me from my own husband.
I didn't know I would be so exhausted some nights from just caring for my little one that I wouldn't say two words to my husband except, perhaps "can you get me some water".
It's not like I put him last. I want to be a wife and a mother. I think its 100% and 100%. But when I haven't slept and my kid is teething and I myself haven't showered and I've rushed to eat, it's hard to think of my husband. It's impossible sometimes. Try swimming--nay, almost drowning, and then suddenly being informed that another human wants to interact with you on an intellectual level.While you are drowning.
Because that is a little bit like what having a tiny human is.
Sometimes I remember to make time for my husband. Sometimes I remember to make time for myself.
Sometimes I just survive. It is what it is.
I am very busy taking care of a little one whose basic needs must be met by me. I had no idea what I was getting into, and while I honestly can say I love most of it--I won't downplay the sheer exasperation factor.
I miss my husband. I would love to spend a evening picking his brain without scooping up a fussy teething baby. I would love to lounge around in bed with him wearing nothing for a few hours without checking on my sleeping offspring every 10 minutes. I miss him.
It's a season, I know. A surprising one. I knew that motherhood was lonely, and I expected to be isolated a bit from friends as I can't pick up and go for coffee and I most certainly can't go out at night with a newborn--but this isn't just light isolation. It's a war zone and you are in solitary confinement.
I didn't know that motherhood would isolate me from my own husband.
I didn't know I would be so exhausted some nights from just caring for my little one that I wouldn't say two words to my husband except, perhaps "can you get me some water".
It's not like I put him last. I want to be a wife and a mother. I think its 100% and 100%. But when I haven't slept and my kid is teething and I myself haven't showered and I've rushed to eat, it's hard to think of my husband. It's impossible sometimes. Try swimming--nay, almost drowning, and then suddenly being informed that another human wants to interact with you on an intellectual level.While you are drowning.
Because that is a little bit like what having a tiny human is.
Sometimes I remember to make time for my husband. Sometimes I remember to make time for myself.
Sometimes I just survive. It is what it is.
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