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.

Ester & Thoughts

Let's just be clear about something. I love my niece.

(and sparklers)

We went to Bear Lake for the week of the 4th of July and she and Amy came. She loved the water (once the sun came out) so much that she wanted to drink it. Amy said she does this in the bathtub a lot, so maybe she thought that Bear Lake was just a really big, messy, grassy bathtub. Or she was just curious.


Either way, we ALL cracked up. And because Ester loves making people laugh, she did it again! She thought that was very funny.


Seriously, cutest face ever? Thought so. She thought the grass was pretty nifty, too, even though she didn't try and eat any of it. (Question: do I overuse commas?)


My parents rented a jetski (which is apparently a brand name?) and Sara & Dad took Ester on a quick ride. I love jetskis.
She thought that was pretty much the coolest thing ever. The life jacket didn't really fit... but I think that kind of adds to the adorableness of it.

Now on to the self-indulgent part of this post. I've been thinking about two main things recently: 1) the worlds we inhabit and 2) deserved vacations.

1) The worlds we inhabit. I have a theory that every person inhabits at two worlds: home and other. The size of one determines how big you need the other one to be. Let's say, for argument's sake, that the normal person needs 100% of "world" in order to maintain a relative amount of sanity. If your inside world is large on variety (i.e. lots of people, big house, things to do, lots of distractions, etc.) then that counts as, say 75% of your world. Your outside world, therefore, needs only be 25% large. That is not large! You could go out once or twice a week, even just shopping and to church and you would probably be content.

Same thing goes in reverse: if your outside world is large (i.e. going to college classes, working full time, etc -- where you see lots of people and have lots of interaction with the "outside world") then your inside world doesn't need to be big. If your outside world takes up 80% of your world, you would probably feel cozy inside of a one-bedroom apartment.

The problem arises when your worlds are out of balance -- living in a one-bedroom apartment (20% of a world if you're being generous) and you have a very small outside world. You start to feel crazy. Cabin fever, to quote the Muppets.

2) Deserved vacations. Let's rewind to elementary school. Remember how summer vacation felt amazing and amazingly short? Same thing for middle school, high school. You craved summer vacation. But then... about halfway through July, you started to feel kinda.. well. Bored. At least I did. Maybe you were one of those school-haters who never missed it in the summer. I always felt antsy. Thankfully, that was when girls' camp and family vacation usually happened, so it was enough to tide me over into August.

But it wasn't summer vacation that I loved the most -- it was Winter and Spring break. I craved those breaks and I think it was because I felt like I deserved them. I felt the same way this year while teaching. I needed winter and spring breaks to recharge and I when I relaxed every single day and did nothing but watch Vlogbrothers on youtube I had no guilt. Because I had been working my butt off before that break and I knew I'd go right back to working my butt off after that break. Maybe it's an American phenomenon (I've wondered since I read Eat Pray Love) but I think we appreciate vacations when we feel like we've earned them. Compare getting a day off to having no job. I tell you which one I'd prefer. Retreating into our 20% inside world feels relaxing when your outside world is so big it's almost crushing.

I can't help but feel kind of nostalgic for work and that makes me feel stupid. Everyone tells me how I should be grateful to have a break, "I wish I had a summer off!" but it's.... lonely. I wish we lived closer to Ester. Or that Ester lived close to us. Cause you KNOW that would help.

Conclusion? I need to make a bigger outside world.