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Before kids, my husband and I used to truly enjoy spending time together. We could be silently driving down a logging road with the truck loaded up with dirt bikes and bike gear, and be completely content in the silence. We didn't need words to feel connected. A simple look, smile, or graze spoke more than any conversation ever could.
Then the children arrived. They were wanted and carefully planned out, but they changed us more than we expected. In silence, we no longer felt that contented peacefulness. We drifted. Lost and struggling to stay awake, we lost the fight to pursue each other. Between endless diaper changes and loads of laundry, we nearly lost each other. And I don't mean in a divorce-is-imminent kind of way. I mean that our focus shifted. It shifted from each other to the two tiny humans we had created together. Our purpose was no longer making each other happy, but learning to survive in our newly created universe while trying to keep our sanity and children alive.
As the sleepless nights evolved into nights of fewer wake-ups, we slowly and surely started finding comfort in the silence again. We made an effort to hug more. As we removed the babies from our bed and into their own, we started cuddling again. The life and love we shared before kids was slowly returning. But it had evolved too. It was bigger somehow, more complicated, but much sweeter. Our love extended beyond each other and engulfed our littles, the very things that tested our commitments and vow to each other.
Unlike so many other couples struggling to adjust to life with kids, we made it. We endured the toughest, yet most rewarding, experience of our lives. We survived the pregnancy stage, the newborn stage, and as we navigate through the toddler stage, we do it together. In silent agreement and awe and appreciation, we know that the best is yet to come.