But not for the reasons I expected. I knew that juggling two kids under three would be a challenge. One will need to pee just as the other starts to cry. You’ve got one set of hands and two bodies that want to be held. This stuff I expected.
What I didn’t expect was thinking, for the very first time, I hate my marriage, much less with such intensity.
With the first child, he’d dote endlessly during the pregnancy and assist unasked as Ollie grew. But with the second, the pregnancy was an afterthought. And once Ascher was born, caring for him fell squarely on me while he watched Ollie. And those moments when CS was frazzled, I’m the one he’d direct the frustration. Intimacy was the last thing on my mind. It felt like we were living parallel lives, ships passing in the night. Our interactions, limited as they were, have been purely transactional – what happened today? what do we need done this week?
I guess I didn’t expect that he’d be such a good dad and simultaneously such an emotionally absent husband.
It’s been almost two years now where I’ve found myself feeling completely alone.
This will probably go away. But this is often what motherhood is about — the moments that are so imperfect and painful. As bad as these moments are, it somehow makes me ache with the thankfulness of having these sweet boys even more. Weird how things work out like that sometimes.