After reading “And Baby Makes Three” over at bessie.viola, I had a flood of emotions regarding my own marriage and new baby experience. Early on, I felt as though we were “inviting” this new link to our twosome. We had thought about it, agreed upon it, decided it, put our faith in Allah and said “alright, let’s make it happen.” But as my waistband expands and my idea of a good night’s rest begins to deteriorate, I am starting to feel less and less “inviting” and more and more “forced,” as though I am now being pushed and pulled towards parenthood rather than running carefree towards it through a field full of sunflowers.
Everyone tells us it will change you, it will change your marriage, it will change your feelings towards your husband. Some warn “enjoy the time you have now” and “it only gets worse” or “it’s downhill from here.” Say good-bye to restful sleep and quiet dinners together with hubby. I know in some element they are telling the truth. But what about all the moments in between? Besides, I’m still convinced that it won’t happen to us, that we are immune to the stresses that parenthood will bring, that we are too civilized with each other to fall into the deep pit of resentment. That we know each other too well to let that happen.
But who knows the changes that will come about when this new being enters into our world. Already I am starting to feel the “aches” – backache, headache, heartache. Delivery (which I’ve conveniently locked out of my consciousness the entire duration of pregnancy) is getting closer and closer, looming on the horizon. Knowing what I alone am going to have to suffer through brings about some strange and unfamiliar feelings. Starting to feel as though MY life is going to be shaken and stirred, while my husband’s is going to only be mildly swayed from side to side.
But the truth of the matter is that we both have to go through this together. We both have to discover a new way of communicating. One that allows us to get out our frustrations (but without tearing each others’ heads off in the process). One that allows us to act civily to each other (no matter what curse words we’re rattling off inside our own heads).
We haven’t been introduced yet to the stress, the sleepless nights, the worrying and the forgetfulness and the havoc and chaos that is parenthood. But in the preview beforehand, the nine months of pregnancy and the dreaded third trimester, I am starting to see a pattern emerge that I think we can both deal with.
Just when I think it’s going to be too much, just when I think I’m about to break, that I can’t hold it in any longer, that I can’t stop myself from the curt comments, the meanness that slips in, the derogatory, spiteful, hateful, resentful, aggressive language that teeters just under the surface – he goes and does something so downright perfect that it all seems to get washed away.
When I got home the other day, the dishes were all washed and put away, the laundry was started, and the entire house was vacuumed.
Every morning when he comes home, we greet each other with a kiss and a hug. From there, who knows how the day is going to go: who’s going to snap when the garbage needs to be taken out, who needs to feed the cat, who gets control of the remote, when it’s time to go to bed and the garbage STILL needs to be taken out. But then who cares about all of those things when you crawl into bed together again and look at each other and feel a baby kicking in between you both. It is something that makes all the rest of it seem like nothing but background noise….and I realize that we DID choose this for ourselves, and parenthood suddenly doesn’t seem so impossible.