Dear Husband…

“To be a good father and mother requires that the parents defer many of their own needs and desires in favor of the needs of their children. As a consequence of this sacrifice, conscientious parents develop a nobility of character and learn to put into practice the selfless truths taught by the Savior Himself.” ∼ James E. Faust ∼

Dear husband,

Hi.

I’m your wife. It’s nice to see you again.

Over the last seven months of parenthood, we have worked side by side to care for our little people. We make a great team, and we’ve done a great job. But I miss you.

It’s hard to make time for each other now that our attentions are constantly demanded by our twins. Every waking moment of every day requires our focus to be on the needs of someone other than ourselves.

It’s true that we get moments for quick hugs or short conversations here and there. But our late nights hanging out in the shop or our leisurely dinner dates together are long gone. At least for a while.

Parenthood has made me love you even more than I did before. Watching you blossom into a loving daddy makes my heart nearly burst. And because of the way our two little ones look at you and hang on the sound of your voice, it’s obvious that they adore you. And so do I.

It’s just that in the middle of keeping babies happy and healthy, I don’t always find the time to tell you I adore you. Sometimes you take a backseat to the baby care-taking and the chores and the general busyness of our day-to-day routine.

By day’s end, I’m so drained and exhausted, and it’s all I can do to even take a little time for myself to read or to watch television or to write. More often than not, I find myself asleep on the couch five minutes into an episode of The Office or one sentence into a blog post.

That’s why I was so excited to have a date night with you for our anniversary. I was excited all week to finally be able to get out of the house without babies in tow.

And we had a great time, had some good conversation, and ate some delicious food.

But then we were sort of lost. We struggled with what to do next. Both of our minds kept drifting back toward home, and instead of finding something fun to do, we called it a night by 8:30.

Initially, I was disappointed. What a bunch of old fuddy duddies. We had babysitters…we could have stayed out much later than we did. I had wanted so much to be “just us” again, to be free again, to be normal again.

And then it hit me…our normal has changed.

Our new normal is sleepily stumbling through the house for bottles at 5 a.m. and then enjoying sweet snuggles in our big bed for another couple of hours. Our new normal is a bath time where we end up wetter than our splashing water babies. Our new normal is rocking our little ones to sleep and putting them down in their cribs like we are diffusing bombs, praying they don’t “go off.” Our new normal is holding a baby in one arm and shoveling in a cold dinner with the other. Our new normal is hearing “Baby Shark” FIFTY MILLION TIMES and then absent-mindedly singing it to ourselves for no reason whatsoever.

Our new normal is being a family of four, a family with young babies, a family that is exponentially growing in love every single day.

And so, my promise to you is this: one day we will find ourselves adjusting to yet another new normal…a normal where our babies aren’t babies anymore, a normal where they won’t need us like they do now, a normal where they will be creating their own lives, a normal where they will be raising their own families. One day we will find a lot more time for each other once again…and I’ll meet you there. I promise. And we can reminisce over the precious memories we have of when our children were small…the exhaustion, the laughs, the struggles, the silly songs, the worries, the miracles, the love.

And once we do that, my dear, we are going on a well-deserved date…and I’m going to order us both the biggest steaks on the menu so we can eat those suckers while they are still piping hot.

I can’t wait.

close up of couple holding hands
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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