It's easy with hindsight to see just how messed up our relationship had become and just how insane the two of us were in our own private thoughts. He became convinced I didn't love him (not surprising if you wife acts like she doesn't like you) and I became convinced that everything I did was wrong. We stopped communicating and just went into that lovely "parent-auto-pilot" thing. You know the one, where sure we talked about the kids, the house, what we need to do on Sunday, but never about what was really going on inside of both of us.
I thought it was just a stage, we'd be fine. Once I got my head above water with the four kids, we'd breathe again. I knew that we'd had bad spots in our relationship before, but I didn't realize what was really happening this time. I didn't realize that The Man was at a point where he was unable to go on as he was. And so he didn't.
A year later and I actually think I know my husband more now than I have these last five years. Things that got swallowed up by us is our separate super-mommy/super-businessman roles are now moving back into focus. Still, every time I hit that "wall" in my head and I remember what happened to our marriage, I feel like I'm looking at a bad Woody Allen film with the two of us in his leading roles. How can I explain how odd it is to be able love him, fall asleep in his arms and then two hours later, I wake up in a cold sweat and want to punch his lights out?
Granted, these moments are less and less frequent because if the truth is told, something had to happen to our marriage. I don't like what did, but the clarity I have now I wouldn't trade for the world. Talk about irony.
In December, I turned 40 and I turned a page. I refuse to hide behind my mommyhood. I love these little people with all my heart and soul but one day, they will have other things to worry about then pestering me when I'm making dinner. I have my own life to live. And I want to do that with The Man.
Today, he turns 42 and I know he's turning a page. He knows now what he's missed, what he almost lost, what he's gained and what is important to him. And boy am I glad that I make that list.
I only wish a world of happiness for him. That his next 42 years are ones where he can be exactly who he's wanted to be his whole life: someone good, someone honourable, and someone well loved. Anything else doesn't count for shit.
I tell you, my Man, I don't care what you do for a living or what our house looks like. I'm fine with feeding the kids pasta and peanut butter for the rest of their lives if it means you and I are good. I love you, Hubster. Even on the bad days.
Don't ever, ever, ever forget that.