Your Marriage After Kids

I remember how my eyes would trace the curve behind my husband’s ear, and down across the back of his neck to where his dark hair has not begun to gray. When we hugged, I loved to bury my nose in that spot on his neck behind his ear. Nowhere else smelled so much like him. I sometimes thought he stepped out of an old Hollywood black and white film, with his manners and thoughtfulness. His eyes were soft and kind, like a young Errol Flynn, but the tattoos on his back are Joe Ledbetter. The first time we met, he smiled at me and the light in his eyes held such an unguarded, open honesty, that I held my breath and time momentarily stopped. It seems impossible there was ever a time on this earth when I existed and he did not. It’s hard to imagine the world without him in it.

I am amazed that I even met my husband. When I think about all the thousands of decisions that led up to that moment, both in my life and his, it seems so much against all odds that it must have been meant to be. I’m sure nobody has ever said that before about their relationship, right?

But time brings change to us all and to everything. Work, kids and other responsibilities demand your time. Years go by and one day you wake up feeling more like roommates than husband and wife, and you don’t know how it happened. How could someone I was so utterly sure of, who made me happier than I’d ever been in my life, who is the father of my child, end up being the reason I’m so unhappy? If it was fate that we met, was it also fate that I would become so heart-broken that it literally broke my heart?

Thich Nhat Hanh wrote about “impermanence” in his book The Art of Living. People think of impermanence as a good or bad thing, depending on their circumstances. I first read about it after I met my husband. My immediate reaction was that I needed to explain to the universe that time and impermanence were big mistakes, because I wanted us to be together forever. The world would be a happier place if love like that existed for all of humanity. The universe must be psychic because the very next paragraph I read had an answer. To paraphrase, he said that if things were not impermanent, then life would be impossible. A seed could never grow into a plant. A baby could never grow up into an adult. There could be no healing, no transformation of any kind. We would never realize our dreams.

“Because of impermanence, everything is possible.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

Without time, we could not live or experience anything at all. Not even a single piece of burnt toast in the blurry morning, let alone each other. For those of us who find ourselves in less than ideal circumstances, it is comforting to know that nothing lasts forever. The pendulum will swing in the other direction, it always does because sooner or later it must. Understanding impermanence helps us survive the tough times and enjoy life in the beautiful times.

If I’d realized that sooner, I might have avoided a heart attack. But I didn’t, so I learned a lesson the hard way. Freaking out, even under the radar, can only cause harm. It hurts ourselves and the people we love. We must accept reality, no matter how much it sucks, because the alternative is futile, and can only make things worse.

That doesn’t mean you are supposed to like it or sit back and do nothing. If I could go back and do it again, I’d react differently. I would still have the rush of feelings such as betrayal, sadness, overwhelm and anger. But I’d try to step outside of the “storm” when I was able, sit calmly in acceptance of reality and watch my feelings from an outside perspective. I would not deny my feelings, but I would be the one in charge, not them. Negative feelings have a place and purpose, but seeing clearly is not one of them. Had I done that, it’s likely I would have found my best course of action instead of stressing myself to the point of near death.

When adult life in the 21st century conspires to pull you and your husband apart, it’s not the end of the story. Your kids do not have to live through a divorce. You can fall in love again if you both decide you want to. You did it once, you are clearly compatible, so you can do it again.

Schedule weekly time alone with one another and share intimate conversations. When was the last time you had a real, satisfying conversation the way you used to? Talk about the things you only say between yourselves. Get out of the house together regularly. No excuses, no kids, and do whatever it is that you both like to do. Do and say things every day that show you care about each other. Make sure the things you both do and say actually make the other feel cared for. What makes him happy? What about you? If you do that, it won’t be long before the brown chicken brown cow comes back.

The cheat sheet version:

1. Make time to regularly be together alone like you used to when you first met. Schedule weekly dates and take them seriously. No flaking.

2. Have intimate conversations. Share your inner-most thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams with each other.

3. Think about ways to make the other person happy and feel loved, and do them daily.

4. Don’t stop! These things are the oxygen of your relationship. Without fuel, there is no flame.

Everything is possible. My favorite part of the book is when Thich Nhat Hanh asks the reader to imagine that someone you love said something unkind and you want to do the same in return. Next, he suggests instead of arguing, stop and remember that in 100 years, that person you love will be gone. Ashes. And so will you. Anger seems ridiculous when faced with the truth that life is precious.

So today, do something to make him happy, and tell him what makes you happy too, because life is short. That is part of the truth of impermanence. Sitting with that perspective allows you both to see the things that are truly important so you can live your best lives.

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