Babies and Marriage

I had a lot to worry about while pregnant with Ezra.  The last four months of my pregnancy were ruled by lists.  Things to do, things to buy, things to put together, things to make Jason do, recipes to make and freeze, classes to take, appointment dates.  Sometimes I felt so overwhelmed looking at my giant yellow legal pad, that I'd write things I already did just to cross them off my list:  Drink water.  Pee.  Take the dogs to the dog park.  Put gas in the car.  Eat bacon.  Pee. Often times, people would make suggestions for what to put on my list.  Get a pedicure when you're 39 weeks pregnant, a friend suggested.  Read a book about breast feeding and get a really long iPhone charger, another friend added to the list.  "Sleep now! Because you won't be sleeping again for a long time," came out of the mouth of every jackass and her sister.  And a few times, "Guard your marriage, because a baby is really going to do a number on it."

I admit, I didn't add that last one to the list.

My husband and I dated for five years.  We moved in together only after we were married and spent the first year learning how to live together and be patient with one another in our 5 square foot apartment.  The next four years were lots of love and laughter, joy, and a solid foundation for a family.  Soul mates, best friends, husband and wife.  What's more, Jason and I spent almost two years trying to make our little turnip, and leaned on one another through what was one of the hardest times of our lives.  If we could get through that, we could get through anything.  I was worried about a lot of things, but my marriage wasn't one.

At 38 weeks pregnant, I had several moments of anxiety where I changed my mind.  I love my husband so much, I didn't want that phase of our lives to end.  I didn't want to bring someone else in the mix when what we had was so perfect.  I didn't want to give up weekends sleeping in and cuddling, movie night on the couch, and lunch dates at La Parilla.  I tried to savor those moments right up to the end--even when I was hot and uncomfortable and wanted that little hot box of a baby out of me.

And then he arrived and as any new mother will tell you: chaos.  Just pure chaos.  I've mentioned those first two weeks with a newborn--but it cannot be overstated.  Chaos.  You don't know who you are, you don't know who your husband is.  You look in the mirror and you think, "WHAT THE HELL?" and you wonder aloud "What have I become?" and "What have I done?"  The only thing you can do is survive.  You're doing everything and nothing all at once, just trying to survive.  And after two weeks, you take your first breath of air since you pushed that baby out, and you think, "Okay.  I can do this."  But even then--it's just survival.  Nothing else.  Just survival.  You're doing what you can to keep yourself and your baby alive and that's it.  I should note here that this is why freezer meals are a God send.  If you're pregnant or know someone who is pregnant, make them something they can throw in the crock pot.  Because crock pots are how new moms and dads survive.

My day consisted of bottles, diapers, crying (from me), crying (from him), attempting to nurse, laundry, washing bottles, maybe 5 non-consecutive hours of sleep, eating a dry Eggo waffle over the sink like a rat, rinse, repeat, all day every day.  Every third day, I'd thrust Ezra into Jason's arms so I could have five minutes to hose off the important parts in the shower and roll some deodorant under my arms.  The other two days, I kept a stack of clean underwear next to the toilet and some body mist on the tank.  I'd place Ezra in the bouncer in front of me and sang a little song that went like this: "Spritz, spritz, good enough.  Clean underwear, good enough."  I never thought I'd get here, but I can actually look back and laugh about those early days.  I can laugh about the things I worried about, the stupid things I did in my sleep deprived, delirious state. 

Okay, five paragraphs in, and I still haven't gotten to the point.  The point is that I forgot about my husband and my marriage.  I didn't have time to mourn our old lives and certainly didn't have time to ask Jason how his day went.  Before Ezra, I didn't understand what people meant when they said a baby will do a number on your marriage.  It is, yet isn't an overnight thing.  It's a gradual chipping away at your ability to care and love.  It's how you used to casually, absentmindedly scratch him behind the ears, but now, when you're not holding a baby, you just want to sit on your side of the couch and enjoy not soothing someone.  It's how you feel so unlike yourself, so unsure of every decision you're making that you can't bring yourself to ask and listen and care about how your spouse is feeling.  It's your husband, watching his wife, who has only had eyes for him for the past decade, suddenly feel out loved and cast aside in place of a tiny person who he loves, too, and can't begrudge.

And then when Ezra was 8 weeks, we sat on the floor of our bedroom and took turns holding him and coaxing him to laugh and coo at us.  As Ezra enjoyed the view of the ceiling fan above us, Jason said, "I didn't think it would be like this.  People told me, and maybe I kind of knew, but I didn't know.  I feel so distant from you, like you don't even look at me anymore.  I'll talk to you sometimes, and you don't even respond.  I'll walk into a room and you don't see me.  You don't touch me, we don't talk anymore, you're just so consumed by Ezra.  I knew you would be, but I didn't know."  And I didn't really respond.   In fact, I didn't actually hear what he said, until I replayed it in my head before bed.  And my first response was anger.  Duh, I'm not listening to you!  I'm so tired and I cry all the time and I'm barely keeping myself alive.  I don't even know who I am.  I haven't known who I am for a while, now.  I can't worry about you.  I'm trying to keep myself from falling to pieces.  I'm putting my own oxygen mask on, and when I get it on, then I'll assist you with yours.

"Guard your marriage, because a baby is really going to do a number on it."

In the morning, I softened.  How would I feel with the roles reversed?  And we can't live like this.  We can't have a house, where 1/3 of the family is feeling unappreciated, left out, and ignored.  Me ignoring him wasn't going to be the new us.  I never thought we were going to be one of those couples who struggled once baby arrived.  Hearing him say we had problems was tough, but a needed reality check.  We can't (and don't want to!) undo the new person in our lives.  So how do we create a new normal?

I function by lists.  So I pulled out that yellow legal pad (which now had eat, wake, sleep schedules for Ezra on about 20 of the pages).  Here's the actual list:

-Notice one thing he's done to help with the baby, and tell him.
-Ask him, and listen, about his day.
-Do something nice for him (buy him new pens at the store, buy him M&Ms, make him chicken tortilla soup).
-Plan an at home date.
-Hug him, every morning and every night.  A good hug.
-Thank him for doing the a.m. feeding and emptying the dishwasher.


It probably sounds so stupid that I had to make a list or that I forgot to love my husband, but I did.  And at first, it was hard.  I was tired and I didn't want to do any of the the things on the list.  If I had a rare free moment, I wanted to shower or sleep or just sit and be.  But as I checked the items off my list each day, they became a part of my routine and I remembered that I love him and it magically became easier to ask him to hold the baby so I could actually shave my legs.  And we laughed hard like we used to in bed reading textsfromyourex and yourshittyfamily and his favorite posts of the day on Reddit.  We risked dates, because they were important, with our unpredictable baby (that's not true--he's pretty predictably awesome all the time).  I was genuinely excited when he came home from work and so appreciative when he folded all the laundry in the dryer and put the bottles on the drying rack. 

Our new normal isn't much like our old normal.  Babies do change everything.  And it turns out that anxiety I felt while pregnant was valid and the need to mourn our old lives was important.  But once we got over that hump, the new normal is actually better.  Granted, we're only 16 weeks out from turning our whole lives upside down and we're still learning to adapt and put the pieces back together.  But if we don't guard our marriage, take stock, and reconnect, we could easily find ourselves downstream.