Not only is today’s guest an incredible writer who is able to pour such emotion into her words, but she is also one of the most supportive women in the blogosphere. Please welcome Galit from These Little Waves.
The moon etches white. A slim glow in our living room reflects the laundry, the mail, the dust.
I sit on the yellow couch. My shoulders, slumped. My hair, ponytailed. My face, tear-streaked.
My first newborn, Kayli, is cradled in my arms.
I hold her close, although if I dig deep (deeper), what I really want to do is pass her off. Take a shower. Reclaim my body. Let someone else -anyone else- take care of her.
But I don’t.
I nestle her in and allow my tears to graze her cheeks.
Jason’s eyes wash over us in shades of helplessness and worry. But when I look close (closer) I glimpse something else coloring them in.
It’s the stubbornness that we share. He wants me to continue nursing our baby, and he’s going to ensure that I do.
That night was was seven-or-so years ago and I’m happy to report that Kayli, Jason, our marriage, and I all survived it.
He did push me to nurse because we made that decision before she was born, before I was pregnant, and probably before we were married!
That’s how it goes in the early rays of love, isn’t it?
You find peace somewhere between passion and friendship and laughter and dreams.
You make your way towards the sacred Middle Ground, plant your feet firmly, and just be together.
Except sometimes, that Middle Ground is hard to reach. And when new love sets and children and finances and schedules and commitments rise, those disagreements shed their light.
And it’s hard.
Jason and I have a beautiful marriage. I am so very lucky to be linked to him.
But sometimes we disagree about our parenting.
Of course we do- we each have our own baggage and upbringing and education and moods. And remember- we share a deeply rooted stubbornness.
But these moments, are when I feel torn.
I want to be on the same team as my husband and present a united front to our children. I want them to feel the sweetness of this security.
But I also want to show them that I’m on their team -always, unconditionally.
Everyone deserves to have someone like that in their lives- someone who will cheerlead for them when they’re not their best.
So I take their side as their mother, not as his wife.
When it’s just the two of us -still sitting on that same yellow couch with that same moon sliding into a different set of windows- it’s easy to hold that disagreement in the palm of my hand, inspect it, crumple it up, and throw it away.
But in the light of day when we’re immersed in the mess that is a family, I am torn again.
Torn (luckily) wrapped up in happily married, soulfully committed, impossibly stubborn, and equally matched.
Thank you so very much for having me here today, Shell. I’m honored! And thank you for reading my heart. I’m thrilled to meet you.