Jeramy, my husband, works the night shift 5 nights a week. Because of this, he sleeps during the daytime. On the days that I work, he wakes up just in time for me to brief him on the child’s needs and rush off to my own job. When I return home later in the evening we have just a small amount of time together before he heads out again for work and starts the cycle over again.
During the window between our work shifts, we spend our time swapping tales of the shenanigans our son got up to while we were the parent in charge.
“Oh my goodness, he did the cutest thing today…”
“Boy was he a grump after you left…”
“He had a banana for dinner.”
“What!? He had a banana at lunch!”
“Oh, well, I guess he had two bananas today then.”
You get the idea.
Of all the things my husband and I have in common, our mutual love of our son and the wonder we share at the surprising and incredible things he does each day is the one that has bonded us the most deeply. Even being together for twelve years before he was born could not prepare us for the way that loving him together would make us love each other more.
When I get home from a night at work, the first thing I excitedly ask my husband is “How did the night go?” I want to know about bedtime, dinner, what they played together, where they went. And during the day, when it is just Simon and I, I keep snapshots of the little miraculous moments fresh in my mind for when I get a chance to share them with Jeramy later.
Sometimes we worry that we talk about our child too much when we are alone together. We fear that this somehow means that we are only living for him, and are forgetting to live for each other as well. I now know that our worries are unfounded. I have come to realize that it really means we are sharing equally in the most passionate joy of our life together: Parenthood.