Falling Again

My husband and I met through mutual friends my second year of law school. I was hanging out with a friend. This friend was going to be going to the Bruin’s game that night but prior to the game, we stopped by another of his friend’s house. Okay, that’s confusing. Friend A and I were hanging out and went to Friend B’s house. Friend A was leaving for the Bruin’s game. Friend B offered for me to stay and hang out, even though we had never met before. There was a big group of friends hanging out at Friend B’s house that night, so I decided to pay an entrance fee of beer since I was an unintended attendant. I ran to the liquor store, returned with appropriate libations and then Friend A left for the game. And suddenly I realized I was in a room full of people I had met about an hour earlier and panic loomed large at that moment. What was I thinking? This was a scenario for an outgoing, comfortable-in-new-settings, funny, chatty person. Not someone who broke into a cold sweat riding the T to school every day. It was a bit of my own personal horror movie.

My brain snapped a little when I realized what I had done but I was determined to hang out and get to know the people that were there that evening. Everyone was incredibly friendly and welcoming to the very recently adopted member of the group. I’m fairly certain I was again the awkward one, sipping on one of the beers I ran out for earlier. Shortly after I was flying solo in terms of people I knew, another friend joined the group. There was nothing crazy about his entrance. I mean he didn’t come in doing cartwheels, waving flags or donning a megaphone but something caught my eye. I’m not sure I could even tell you if he said hi to me amongst the group of friends he was checking in with. I’m also not positive if he just happened to sit next to me or if I ended up next to him on the couch because I purposefully perched myself there.

As the night progressed, I certainly took note of him more and more. And I am beyond confident he was clueless to my existence. The night moved from watching the Bruins game to watching the friends play video games. I could not care less what game they were watching or playing. I was excited that I was sitting next to a cute boy. He was excited to be playing video games. I tried to make my presence known by inching closer to him. He continued to ignore my existence. A winning combo for sure.

And then he just got off the couch and started to say goodbye to his friends. What? Did he not see me pining over him? Could he not feel me encroaching on his personal space an inch at a time that evening? Awkwardly and silently willing my brain to say something normal like, “Hey, I think you’re cute.” Although, I don’t know how normal that is because my brain of course convinces me that being the weird girl next to him on the couch is somehow more normal than verbalizing what I was thinking. So he just gets up, says his goodbyes and leaves. Well now what? Here’s what. You get up off the couch, run out of the house after him, stop his car as he’s about to drive away, hand him your phone number and give him a kiss on the cheek.

And that’s how I met my husband.

He offered to drive me home that night but I declined. I took the T home but I do believe he checked in with me that night to make sure I got home safely. It was about a week later when we had our first date. Dinner out. At a seafood restaurant. I don’t eat seafood. But I tried crab legs that night for the first time and they are still one of my favorite foods ever. So minus the fact that I wasn’t really a seafood person, the night was lovely. Conversation was easy. I continued to enjoy his company, especially since he actually acknowledged my presence which was a far cry from the night we met. Food was plentiful. Drinks flowed. After dinner, we moved to the bar area to watch the Bruins game. And we ended up being the always pleasant drank-too-much-so-let’s-make-out-at-the-bar couple. We are not proud of it and have been paying for it since. Our punishment has been the fact that we someone how always end up next to the drank-too-much-so-let’s-make-out-at-the-bar couple. If they exist, we unfortunately end up on the adjacent bar stools. It is a punishment we rightfully earned.

The road to where we are now wasn’t without potholes and detours. I remember being mortified the night that I met his youngest brother and dad. I had just gotten off work at a local Italian restaurant, smelled of pasta and garlic and generally looked like a greasy garlic knot more than a presentable human being. Needless to say, they ignored my Italian restaurant transgressions and liked me nonetheless. I met more family and friends over the first year, was introduced to the Cape, had him meet my close law school friends and generally became engrained in each others’ lives.

About a year in we took a break and reevaluated. We came back together, with the knowledge we were most certainly choosing each other and the work that goes into a relationship. He is and will forever be my person. He makes me comfortable in my own skin, which is no easy feat. Supports me in all aspects of our lives together. Believes in me more than I believe in myself, which is half the reason I’m even writing this. And pushes me to do things I never thought I was capable of.

While dating, we took trips both big and small together. Enjoyed the freedom to do whatever we chose to on weekends. Last minute jaunts over the bridge (to Cape Cod). Dinners out. Traveling to Wisconsin, California, Maine and other locales. Too many nights imbibing in Dreamsicles – a lovely, sugary sweet cocktail at the bar local to my old apartment. We could stumble home without worry of need a ride anywhere and indulge in a greasy breakfast the next morning.

One particular trip back home for Christmas will forever be my favorite. We were staying at my parents house. I was watching clips of proposals on my phone when he came into our room, not realizing he had a ring in his pocket at that very moment. That afternoon, the entire family (probably about 20-30 of us) gathered in the fire place room for a toast. First my dad and then my grandpa. Except, instead of my grandpa speaking, my now husband did. And he said lovely, kind words of which I remember about 10%. I was so confused in the beginning that it wasn’t my grandpa speaking that when I actually realized what was happening, my brain broke. He got down on one knee in front of my entire family and proposed. While it felt like the room was just the two of us, I was beyond excited to share the joy with everyone in my family. A year and a half later, we retuned to Wisconsin for our wedding, which of course in my mind, is the best wedding I’ve ever been to.

Prior to getting married, we talked about wanting to grow our family and the fact that we wanted to wait a year after the wedding before we even tried for kids. So that’s what we did. And for our first anniversary, we took a trip to Ireland and Scotland. It was an amazing trip and such a wonderful time to check out of our crazy lives and spend time together. Shortly after that trip, we found out we were pregnant with our first and of course, 9 months later our first sweet little monkey butt joined the family. Our lives turned on its axis and we experienced the first major paradigm shift of our lives together.

On top of adding an entire human being to our lives, I struggled daily. Postpartum was not kind to me. The struggle between my husband and I was very real and very raw. It was hard for me to let him parent because I was always so anxious and afraid of nearly everything. I lived in a catastrophized version of reality that felt very real to me but wildly out of the realm of possibility for my husband. He simply wanted to parent and be a dad and I was convinced I was the only one capable of successfully parenting. Even though I had never been here myself. Postpartum is a liar and a bitch and something I clawed my way through inch by inch.

In hindsight, we probably welcomed our second monkey butt too early in my postpartum journey. It is something that I would never change but I don’t think I realized how deep I was still in the tar pit that is postpartum with our first, before we welcomed our second. Our boys are 22 months apart.

I’m sure our experience of becoming parents is like millions of other families. When you add children to the recipe, you lose a bit of yourselves. Struggling to see how you fit into the new role of being a parent and throwing some much of everything into the newest additions. The roommate thing is very real. Meaning that sometimes you feel more like roommates with your spouse. Ships passing in the night. No longer the drank-too-much-so-let’s-make-out-at-the-bar couple. Instead the up-all-night-changing-diapers-and-feeding-a-baby couple. Over the years, that became our norm. Putting more into our boys than each other and ourselves as a team.

Recently, and I mean very recently, we seemed to have hit the next paradigm shift in our lives. This time it’s a shift in the relationship just between the two of us. We are working to actually go out on date nights again. Finding the time for each other, not just our kids. We are by no means taking away from our boys but we are pouring into each other more. This past weekend we even got a night away while my parents were in town. We went out to lunch, walked around the quaint little town we stayed in, enjoyed dinner out and binged watched Netflix. During dinner, we had uninterrupted conversations. Asked each other questions like “What is your favorite memory of us dating?” and “If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?” Ate chocolate covered graham crackers (okay fine, that was only me) while watching the D&D movie, one about a hit man and started the new Kate Hudson show (highly recommend). Slept in past 5am which is the time our boys are awake about 92% of the time.

It’s not that I ever fell out of love with him. Like I said, he is my person and forever will be but the relationship of the last 8 years was not what our first 6 years were. The waters had become cloudy with kids and managing all the aspects that came with raising healthy, thriving human beings. It was easy to lose sight of the fact that our family existed because of the strong base my husband and I created together and that if we didn’t work to maintain that base, it could be easy to lose.

So this intentional time together whether a night away or dinner out or staying up too late to squeeze in one more episode has been a welcome change. And although I never fell out of love, it feels a bit like falling for him all over again which is pretty incredible.