The Same Page

Most men and women tend to show emotion differently; drastically differently in some cases.  We learned this first hand when we lost Jack.  While we were both utterly heartbroken and absolutely devastated, it just looked different for Sean and I.  In some ways that was one of the hardest parts; this boy that I had felt so connected to, for twelve years at that point, I suddenly felt like there was a huge chasm between us.  Though, God love the man, he did agree before we even left the hospital, to go to therapy with me.  I knew we had to figure out a way to work through everything-the lows and darkness that would be coming and find a way to talk about it all, not just tuck it away into a dark corner of our lives-if we were ever going to make it.  And we did; week after week, we talked and vented and struggled through learning to see each other’s point of view and adjust to one another’s coping mechanisms.  One day, even though it had felt like it would never come, we found ourselves at a place that we were ready to try to venture down the baby road again.  And even then, through all nine months and even the days after Carter came, we talked-pulse checking-to make sure we were doing all right with everything.

You see, long before I was pregnant and during and even up until the moments before I delivered this boy, I was terrified.  Scared of what it could look like for me, for us.  We had started to heal, and really live again; what if this little baby boy brought all of the pain and hurt back to the surface?  What if these wounds we’d worked so hard to begin to heal opened back up again?  Could I come through it again, what state would I be left in at the end, and could Sean tolerate me through it again?  These are the things we discussed over and over.  And I have to say, for a man that generally does not emote, Sean was honest and open and had the hard conversations with me over and over again, though it was clear that we were still looking at things from a very different vantage point.    

The moment I heard his loud cries, held that sweet boy in my arms, saw his sister fall in love him, and brought him home-I felt it deep in my bones: I was going to be alright.

I am rapidly approaching the end of my maternity leave and it quite literally hurts my heart to think of leaving this baby.  I don’t want to miss a single second of him.   I could never leave his side and be completely fine with that but then I have all of these scenarios run through my mind, many of which involve him yelling at me to stop smothering him or him living in our basement and so I know what I have to do.   I’ll go back this week on Friday, just for a day to get my feet wet and then we get one more glorious week off together before I return for good.  So, it’s been an incredibly busy two months with lots of firsts.  First Halloween for the little man, Kennedy's first big girl playdate; there have been sleepless nights but more surprisingly restful ones, there have been lots of tears, some of them Carter’s, some of them mine, and many of them Kennedy’s (growing pains for a little girl, no longer the center of attention). 

Photo credit: Amber Hooper Photography

Sean and I had our first baby-free night in a long while.  My parents came over and we headed out to dinner at my favorite spot.  We ate our first uninterrupted, hot meal accompanied by a nice bottle of wine and talked, and laughed.  On the drive home, maybe in part because of the wine and not having drank for almost an entire year, I suddenly felt a little overwhelmed.  So I asked this sweet boy I have loved for the last fourteen years of my life, “How do you think I’m doing?”  And I braced myself; afraid of the honest answer I knew he’d give me.  And he said, “You’re doing great, love, how do YOU think you’re doing?”  I was relieved to hear him say that, more relieved than I can put into words.  I told him I though it was going good, I felt good but then I said, “It all feels so complicated though, like a look at him and I can’t understand how all at once he breaks my heart and...,” and then I could speak anymore, the lump I my throat had overtaken my voice.  It didn’t matter though; he didn’t miss a beat, “heals your soul, right?” And the tears flowed.  Because he was right.  Because he knew the feeling.  Because we were finally on the same page about it all. 

The casualty of a great bottle of wine...

The holidays are rapidly approaching; Thanksgiving up first and there is so much for me to be thankful for.  I’ll save it for next time but for now, wish me luck as I return to the workforce.