Nothing quite tests a marriage like a child. And then another one.
It’s a wonderful test. But it really is a test.
I remember the first time around. The birth (well, I remember some of that, I blocked a fair chunk of it out) and my husband holding our baby for the first time. The look in his eyes, I’ll never forget that. That moment when your heart breaks but is made whole again in seconds.
I think for the first two weeks of my wee tiny’s existence my husband and I just gave each other love drunk, swoony grins. It was like the week after our wedding (but without the sex, because after birth you’re just like, thanks vagina, I’m never using you ever again. You’re welcome to just close up completely now). We gazed adoringly at each other and our beautiful baby.
Basically conversations were just gushing punctuated by exclamation marks:
He’s so beautiful!
I know! How did we make such a beautiful baby!
He’s perfect!
We made him!
Can you believe we made him!
Together!
He’s a little us!
I love you!
I love you more!
He’s so beautiful!
You’re a well-oiled machine. You don’t even need to be asked to pass the wipes, you anticipate every move as needed. A glass of water as you feed. A kiss on the forehead. You’re constantly rallying each other – you’re so good with him! You are! No you are!
Then your husband or partner goes back to work and if you’re anything like me you’re just OH MY GOD I CAN’T DO THIS ON MY OWN COME BACK DEAR GOD IT IS A REAL BABY! I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOOK AFTER A REAL BABY! DON’T LEAVE ME WITH IT!
Eventually, like a year later, you’re less scared and you’re in a groove together. So you decide to just explode that to smithereens and have another baby.
This time it’s similar but different. You’re still super swoony and all – Wow, another cute one! Look at us! I mean damn we make cute babies. He’s so perfect isn’t he?
But it’s with a bit of an edge too because you’re SO TIRED NOW. In theory you remember what sleep is. You know the dictionary definition…but what it actually feels like? Not so much. Sleep is a distant memory. A lovely one that you day dream about before the baby puts his hand in poo because you weren’t watching closely enough when you changed their nappy.
Sharing a bed with your partner often ends if you have terrible sleepers. It did for us. Our toddler slept through the night for the first time just before our second was born. It was a one-off. Most nights I would be in our bed with the baby in a Moses basket and my husband would be wedged into our toddler’s bunk bed. Sometimes we would start the night together but by the second or third feed, there would be a cry, and he’d been gone.
We were still a machine – kind of oiled, but also really slow and kind of lumbering and prone to break-downs. But we helped make sure we pumped each other’s tyres– ummm OK I’m not sure where this analogy is going so I’m going to stop.
A year on from Baby Number Two, also known as the delicious pink Ham, we are still often apart at night. Attempts at weaning (all unsuccessful thus far) have seen me staying at his mother’s house with our oldest while he battles a furious fat baby demanding breasts all night.
We are still a little bit like ships in the night… If I’m honest – A LOT like ships in the night.
But the love is there. And sometimes I dream of my husband.
I dream of what our life used to be like, cuddling on the couch, watching bad 80s metal video clips on YouTube. Taking impromptu weekend trips to Auckland for a gig. After work drinks that turned into those nights that you talk about for ages and ages. Long drives on the weekend where we would blast the music and pash at the lights. We met as teenagers and kept acting like teenagers for a decade.
But I’m glad we’re grown-ups now. Sometimes even when I dream of him and our life, I realise we’re also living a dream now. This world that still feels new even though we’ve lived on Planet Parents for three years now. I wouldn’t change it for the world, and I know he wouldn’t either.
Sometimes I reach my hand across the bed and I feel that he’s not there. I close my eyes and drift back to sleep. When I open them again he’s there, with our other son. All four of us snuggled on our bed as an island. Swooning at each other just like in those first few weeks. Look what we made! You kids are perfect!
Our love for each other bigger times four.
Read more from Emily at her site www.emilywrites.co.nz. Follow her on Facebook and Instagram.
