photo by Carrington Cunnington
When I think of my kids, I think of what a fun stage they’re going through right now. At almost four years old they a have me in stitches on a regular basis. Their vernacular, their voice inflection, their facial expressions–it’s as though I can’t fathom how these little kids came to be from the toddlers and infants they were earlier. There is nothing more fun than right now. And yet when I think of it, I can’t remember a time when I haven’t thought that–that this moment right now, this stage, is the most fun. Now to be clear, I don’t completely have my rose colored glasses on right now. I can tell you about the tough things with each stage as well, and even as my kids are making me laugh I know that sometime in the coming half hour or so one or more of them will make me cringe. Kids are hard. But they’re wonderful, aren’t they? It just seems that they are always wonderful.
But then I got to thinking. I got to thinking that there are five people in my family, and my kids only make up three of them. Then there’s me, doting on them and laughing at their clever antics–that’s four. But wait, there’s still one more. Five, yes, my husband. Unforgettable number five.
What’s he doing at number five?
It wasn’t all that long ago that I started coming out of my own little haze of early motherhood. “Little” may be a bit conservative actually; I think my haze in fact blanketed my entire field of vision for longer than I care to admit sometimes. And while I could explain a wide array of factors leading to my consumptive approach to parenting–why I needed to do it the way I did it and why I somehow couldn’t manage to muster more than a secondary thought for my husband’s happiness–the fact is I grabbed the steering wheel and relegated my husband to the backseat.
Now I’m finally allowing myself to fall back in love with my man. Not that I ever really fell out of love with him. I really didn’t. But I was so head over heels for my kids, and loving them that way was so effortless, so easy, (and we all know that loving our husbands does require effort at times), that my passion went to mothering even as my obligation to put my husband first remained the mantra in my head. I knew that he needed to be my priority, but for a while my temptation was just to take the easy road.
But something my husband said to me some months back really stuck with me, and it’s changed the way I see him, and us. It was so simple. The thing is I sometimes have a hard time believing that people really love me. Intellectually I know they can, and that they do, but in fact I spend a lot of energy fretting that they actually don’t, or that they do but they won’t continue to. And so when someone close to me shows me affection I accept it for what it is–a genuine expression of love–but I simultaneously worry that it may be the last expression for a long time, or ever. I tend to do this most intensely with my husband and family–with those who love me most.
So a while back I was talking with my husband about this difficulty of mine when he said something so matter-of-fact that it pierced to the very center of me. I got the distinct sense that my inability to accept his love felt like an insult to him, and he said something to the effect of “we’ve been married for more than ten years and not all of it’s been awful.” I am liberally paraphrasing here, but while I can’t remember exactly what he said, what I heard was: “I love you. I’m not with you out of obligation, I don’t begrudge being with you, and actually, rather than being a chore, being your husband day in and day out is exactly what I want to be. I chose you. I choose you. And I will continue to choose you every day. Of my own volition.”
Doesn’t that sound familiar? Something like the words of love God speaks over us, day in and day out? Something like what we long to hear and believe? Though my husband had no idea how his words hit me that night, for the first time in a decade I allowed myself to believe that when he touches my back or holds my hand it’s because he feels affection for me. He has, he does, and he will continue to. I am loved. And so can I love him.
And I do love him more and more each day. I look for ways to please him and I get joy from bringing a smile to his face. Love builds on love, and I am finding, to my complete delight, that the more I love my husband, the more I love him. It’s exponential. My husband doesn’t belong in the backseat unless I’m ready to hop back there to snuggle with him. Until then, I’ll keep him in the driver’s seat with me right beside him and the kids strapped in back. We’re figuring out this balancing act, and I’m liking where we’re headed so far.
Great post, Carrington (and great photo!). I can completely understand where you are coming from. I did and sort of still do the same thing. I think it was partly because of the tragedy we went through and how long it took us to finally get pregnant the second time. But I love my daughter so so much and I let her consume almost every minute of the day. I think the good thing is, I began to realize that God loves us so much more than that and that is amazing and hard to imagine.
Thanks for the reminder because I still have a ways to go.