Friday, March 20, 2009

I Miss My Husband

Doug and I were married for six years & four days when Wyatt was born. But with our marriage, there was never a “honeymoon” stage. He started back to law school a couple weeks after we were married, and he was busy every night studying across the street at the coffee house. Then, he studied at that same coffee shop day and night for a couple months for the Louisiana bar. Then, he studied every weekend in Jackson, Mississippi for another couple months for the Mississippi bar. Then, he was busy being a first year attorney. Then, he was busy fighting for his license and working at the only job he could find.

My point is that I was never used to having him all to myself—he was always busy finishing school & his certifications. But, even though now he’s in a much better place work-wise, it’s just ridiculous that I see him less than I used to! I feel like I never see him. I didn’t feel this way when we just had Wyatt, but now that the twins are here, everything has changed. Now, whatever time we have is squeezed in after they all are in bed and that’s only if we shortchange some evening task we should be getting done.

I get told all the time how much of a blessing the twins are. Yeah. I know. Really, I do. But when you’re in the thick of a battle, feeling blessed that you’re still alive just isn’t a thought going through your head at the moment—you’re way too busy planning your next move and the next one just to stay alive. I get so tired of people telling me, “Oh, I wanted twins!” or “I hope I have twins.” No, you don’t know, not really. You want “twins, the fairytale movie,” not “twins, the reality show.”

There’s enough guilt that mothers have with one baby at a time. Imagine the guilt of not being able to soothe two infants at one time; the guilt of having to just let one cry because you have to take care of the other baby now; the guilt that because you have to let that child cry, s/hed may not feel loved enough and secure enough to grow into a happy, healthy adult; the guilt of not being able to let one baby continue his nap because the other one woke up hungry already, and you have to keep them on the same feeding schedule or you’ll lose your mind.

Tonight, I miss my old life when it was just my husband and me.

I miss being able to jump in the car and go to Walmart or the mall, no matter the time of day or night or what the weather was like.

I miss having a conversation where no one else is talking but us, just letting the stream of consciousness of our thoughts take us wherever.

I miss being able to hold hands, hug, and kiss without a 2-year-old screaming, “No mommy!” or climbing in our laps to get between us.

I miss snuggling on the couch to watch a movie and choosing to stay in because we wanted to, not because it was just easier than loading three munchkins in carseats and making sure we had all the right equipment (bottles, diapers, toys) for each child.

I miss having impromptu lunches during the workweek—“impromptu” is just not something you do with 2 babies and a toddler. Planning hardly works, so impromptu is out the window.

I miss being able to sleep in on Saturdays together. I miss lying around in bed long after we’d awakened just because we didn’t have to get up and it was warm under the covers.

I miss planning and taking trips around the world, hiking up hundreds of steps, rapidly moving from destination to destination. Now days, it takes 5 minutes just to unload everyone from the car.

I miss the energy we used to have. I miss “free” time. I miss my naps.

I miss the quiet.

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