I have always loved to write, and after the birth of my daughter (and the roller coaster of hormones and emotions that came with it), I once again leaned on my writing to help me not only navigate my emotions, but help shine a light on how I was feeling about all the changes going on around me.
When my daughter was born, my husband and I had been together for roughly nine years (married for seven). We were cruising along in our own little comfort zone, enjoying the child-free life until we decided to completely change the course of our future. We worked hard to get to a place in our relationship where we felt we could be good parents, so when she came we were ready. Well, as ready as we could be.
This month marks nine years of our marital adventure, and to celebrate, I wanted to post a piece I wrote soon after my daughter was born.
My husband was, and continues to be, my best friend. And my antagonist, but that is a story for another day.
The morning drives took place before the baby came. They were a way to kill time and just be together. Once the baby arrived, the drives became a way to calm the baby and compose our nerves. It was our way of retaining a piece of our life before the baby.
Now that we have settled in to our new life, with our not-so-new addition, the drives are much, much more. We say it is to ensure the baby naps, which to a degree is true; however, the reason for hopping in the car goes much deeper than nap time.
Cruising along the old highway, admiring the old houses, the manicured lawns, and commenting on how much the cities change is a gateway to a certain amount of vulnerability that once only presented itself in midnight conversations as we stared at the ceiling of our bedroom. Now we opened our hearts and spilled our worries, our fears, and our triumphs while we meandered through county after county. We laid ourselves bare; looking for validation and acceptance, all while we listened to the soft breathing coming from the backseat.