The secret about babies and happiness

I saw an infographic about marriage happiness a few days ago and was disappointed to read the statistic about marital happiness following childbirth: 67% of couples surveyed reported a "big drop in marital satisfaction".  That's a lot of couples!

As a new mom, this was disheartening on several levels. I love my son and I can't imagine our life without him now.  He's given us more structure, more happiness, and he's given me a massive amount of purpose.

But satisfaction? What about satisfaction?

I suppose it depends greatly on your situation, but yes.  Satisfaction.  There is nothing quite like being pregnant and knowing that you and your husband have created something that's perfect, tiny, and changing at an astounding rate.  Yeah, I was sick, and yeah, being pregnant was a pain towards the end, but who cares? I was creating a life.  For me, that was enough.  Maybe I'm weird, but pregnancy was one of the most magical, strange, and wonderful times for me.  I couldn't bend over, but I could feel Liam.  He was as close to me as he'll ever be and I felt the stirrings of this motherness that's come to
define my days now.

After he was born, I told Peter, "I don't know why anyone would ever choose to go through that more than once."  It was hard. People be like, "Birth is a beautiful thing!" and yeah, it is.  But it's also ugly, hard, painful, drawn out, and hard.  I know I already said that one.  But it bears repeating. I know my body was made to have children and all that, but yeesh. Pain meds are pretty much the best invention ever.  And those first few weeks were brutal.  I didn't sleep well, Liam didn't poop well, Peter was exhausted and overwhelmed with work and taking care of me.

But there were moments.  He was a tiny person who needed us.  Not just anyone -- us.  He needed me.  He needed his daddy.  He is my child and with that comes this overwhelming feeling of, "Oh, oh. He is Peter's and he is mine and he is here."

Those incredibly long mornings and nights where he was waking up every 3 hours aren't something I care to repeat, but you can't compare the sort of bond he and I have now.  He cries and I can call to him from the other room, "Liam! It's okay!" and he knows I'll come.  He's come to trust me and that is terrifying and wonderful.

All of parenthood is that, I think: terrifying and wonderful.

In the beginning, all he really did was sleep.  We compared his features to ours: he has Peter's ears, my eyebrows and hairline, Peter's toes, expressions, and eyes.  He got my tiny lips and long fingers and, we discovered a few weeks ago, he has Peter's embouchure.  (Delight!)

The strangest thing about all of this is that sometimes, I'll be changing Liam's diaper or talking with him or just watching him and he'll do something that just overwhelms me with love for him -- and for Peter.

I expected to love Liam more than I could imagine.  People tell you about that part. But I didn't know that having a baby would change how I felt about Peter.

Liam is half me and half Peter.  (Well, maybe since he's a boy he's more Peter.) I can't look at him without seeing how clearly he is like his daddy.  I can't see that without loving Peter more than I already do.

I think that's the secret that most people are missing.  Yeah, having children is hard.  You sacrifice a lot, you put your life on hold, you change your plans.  You can't go on spur of the moment vacations as well and even going to the grocery store is a challenge.  (And when you do get to go alone, you take longer than strictly necessary because it is so nice to be by yourself.)  But you also love your children more than you thought possible, but you also love your spouse more because of them.

That's the secret.  Kids make you love your partner more.

I don't know how to explain it beyond that.  Something happens when you see the child that you and your husband have created and it's this strange, wonderful, scary thing that you made a person, that you're responsible for him, that you need to teach him and stimulate him with multiple colors and textures as a child and worry about feeding and allergies and vaccinations and all of those other things that make up the maze that is parenting.

That part is overwhelming.

But the giggles? The ribs on my son that bow out just like my husband's?

Seeing Peter in Liam makes me wish he was home from work all the time.  I want to hold both of them closer because of it. I love Peter more because of Liam.

I watch Peter with Liam and my heart just melts.  I love him more because he's a father. I love him more because we made this tiny person together.  Because he is ours.

People tell you to be careful because you will love your baby more than anything in the world.  They're not quite right; you'll love your baby more than you thought possible, yes, but it deepens the love you already have for your husband.

I remember asking my dad if us being born was the happiest day of his life.  He told me no.  "Marrying your mom was."  Did he love us most?  No.  "I love your mom most."  I was reassured and bothered by that as a child, but I understand now. He loved my mom more because of us, not in place of us.

And I love Liam more than anything, more than anyone -- except Peter.  I can't love Liam without loving Peter more.  In some strange parental calculus, that's the truth: having children enriches the love you already have.

Liam still sleeps best when one of us is holding him.  He still wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes.  He still cries.  But he is my son.  He is our son.

That is the most satisfying thing of all.