Farewell, Sweet Husband

ATTN READERS: if you’re not into corn, please see yourself out. If you enjoy reading romance however, come on in and I’ll make you a cocktail.

As I inch closer to giving birth, friends and strangers love to remind me to “get ready” and “say goodbye” to my current life. “Enjoy your sleep!” “Enjoy your husband!” “It will never be the same!” I understand that all this unsolicited advice comes from real, honest experiences; I understand, without being able to fully understand, that my life and self will completely change. The part that is hardest for me to swallow is this idea that Jon and I must say goodbye to our current relationship, the one we’re so fulfilled by that we decided we wanted our family to grow; I wanted a baby because I love the idea of more Jon in the world, I don’t want less Jon!

Nights we cook together and pause to dance in the smell of onions sizzling in butter, Jon singing in my ear, doing his best Elvis, these are moments I live for and don’t want to think about having to grieve. Today’s episode is a love letter to my husband, the Valentine’s Day special of Leather & Silk, a way to preserve where I am now, before I enter an unknown realm, before I pack for a trip to space, where I don’t know the language or even the atmosphere and how it’ll affect my way of walking, talking, thinking. I’m still in the before times; what can I do while I’m still here besides hold Jon’s face like I’m trying to take it with me? Farewell my sweet husband. I have loved being your date, your girlfriend, your fiancé, your wife, and now your hungry, cranky hippo. I’ve never been cared for like this and it’s felt like I’m getting away with breaking the law. I think it’s probably weird how much time we spend together. Thanks for letting me be obsessed with you.

I remember each detail of the night I realized my love for Jon was different from the guys I’d rudely tried to mold into “the man I’m supposed to be with.” Jon came to meet me at my dear friend Abby’s place. I went outside to meet him on the street, and saw the shadow of his daddy long legs emerge from behind the building’s red wall moments before his monument of a smile did. He had his hands in his pockets like the big dumb New Yorker he is. I thought, Woah. He's so happy to be here. This is an act of adoration. 

Seeing him and Abby each completely being themselves on the same sofa that night was aloe on my earliest wounds; I saw a diamond in their interaction, a spark of the family I want. My romantic ass thought, this moment is possibly birthing the hug Abby will give him while she cries and congratulates us on our first born. Abby is emotional and a big dreamer and she loves me. She's one of the reasons I haven't given up believing I deserve all the things I want. I thought, Jon fits here. And I’m having to do nothing but watch.

Later in his home Jon pulled me to his chest by my armpits. (I still love when he can't get enough of me, and I still pretend it doesn't completely thrill me. I hope I can always play it cool in his neediest moments). I was telling a story and he interrupted to ask if I always have this kind of chemistry with guys two months in. I gave a long pause before answering his loaded question. I paused because I wanted to say whatever answer would get me closer to having him.

I finally said no, the truth, which is that I'd never repeatedly talked and laughed all night and morning with someone while my body was desperate for sleep; “No, Jon, I've never done this.”

He said, "that's nice of you to say" and in his own less vulnerable way said the same thing back to me.

He continued, “I’ve never felt like I can be this myself.”

What an honor to help you be more you, Jon. How fun was it getting to meet us that night? It feels like forever ago. But there we were, on your prized sofa, the one my cats would eventually shred, readjusting uncomfortable feelings and shoulders, asking the each other, "Are you comfortable?" 

Jon then asked me if we could be teammates, and I fully understood and appreciated the question. I mean, what a fucking question. I’ve truly been different ever since. 

I said "kiss me goodbye" and his crushed face fed me. He followed my ponytail to my car and kissed me for the 800th time. I pulled up his driveway and, as I thought I might, saw him sitting on his wall hunched without his jacket, waiting to see me off. I rolled down my window, allowing Cindy Lauper to pour over my arms and out my car. We let it be a movie scene, and I drove away. In some ways, the story of that night is my birth story.

If you are someone who wants a partner, I recommend never giving up searching for one that allows for you to be your best self. I used to date men who weren’t a match for me while relentlessly trying to make them “my dream guy,” not knowing that I’d eventually meet someone who made my dream guy look like a 2D sketch on a dirty bar napkin. Don’t waste another minute in relationships where you’re trying to change someone, not because it means they’re not good enough, but because it means you’re not the right you in that relationship; it’s not loving to try changing someone. A partner you love deserves a loving you. I want to offer what my friend Abby taught me when I felt tortured by unsatisfying relationships, breakups and heartbreak— you can have what you want, and that it’s okay if it takes awhile. It’s actually great if it takes awhile, because it means you’re not settling; it means you know your partner is worth the wait. And it means that you know your life in the interim is just as precious.

(Side note: Abby also told me that, based on my astrological chart, I needed to date a Pisces. Jon happens to be the only Pisces I’ve ever dated. Thank you, Abby. This baby is as much yours as it is Jon’s).

us as babies

Right now, looking down at my nine month pregnant body, my sausage-y fingers and milk stained shirt, I’m aware of how unaware I am that new love is coming. I fear my old habits of trying to change others will be unearthed amidst the blurry lines of parenting dos and don’ts. I’m supposed to help change him from a baby to an adult, am I not? I desperately want to be the mom and wife who would never take out her old resentments on dishes left in the sink. It took a lot of time and work to find and be a good partner. How long will it take me to be the parent I want to be? I’m choosing to let it be okay that I don’t know. It’s okay that I can’t figure out my whole entire journey of motherhood right this minute. I couldn’t even tie my shoes this morning.

After my last issue of Leather & Silk, Jon and I went on a beachy babymoon, heeding everyone’s advice to enjoy each other “one last time!” Only there weren’t many vacation activities I felt my new growing body could handle. The old me would’ve loved a Hawaiian sunset hike, but we had to enjoy each other “one last time” as the new me, the heavy, sleepy me; I could feel our old life already slipping away. Jon booked a day of snorkeling for us knowing that I may back out last minute. I was pretty nervous about it. The instructors kept repeating that it was only safe to snorkel this area if we were confident in our swimming ability. I can’t tread water for long on my best days. But I was desperate for a memorable “last” experience, goddamnit! My marriage is about to end for crying out loud!

Holding hands, Jon and I walked backwards into the bay with our flippers. I squealed like a piggy when the water touched my sensitive stretched belly skin, forcing Jon to reassure me multiple times that this was all a good idea. We dipped our faces below the surface, and hand in hand we kicked our way to the coral reef. The instructors had warned us not to step on or touch the reef; you could ruin it, and it could really scrape up your skin. At one point the tide lowered unexpectedly as we swam over a particularly tall area of reef, my protruding belly only inches from scraping the top. I gritted my teeth and squeezed the shit out of Jon’s hand, signaling to him how painful it could be for me if we didn’t swim the fuck out of there. He and I both kicked as hard as we could and, in that moment, I felt my son kick hard too. We were all kicking, our first family activity, and just in time, we glided to an open space filled with schools of colorful fish. The relief and joy combined was overwhelming. And I felt like our kid was asking if he could be a teammate too. (Yes, baby! It’s a really good team). That day was such a precious reminder that goodbyes often accompany the best hellos.

I’m not sure what else to say today other than I’m so, so tired. And I’ve never felt more like I don’t know what’s coming. But a friend once told me Buddhists believe that when we don’t know what’s next we’re actually the most enlightened, because we never really know what’s coming. We just sometimes act like we do. I’m more enlightened than ever, I guess! But I feel outrageously lucky that I get to play gin with Jon while I wait to learn more. There’s no one I’d rather go to space with, even if we have to say goodbye once we get there.

Time to pack for my lobotomy, I guess. I’ll see you all on the other side ♥