It was a Friday night and my eyes were so tired that I felt that they were shriveling up and about to roll out of my head. I was starving and in a knee-jerk reaction called my mom on my way home from work. “Mom, I’m so, so tired, I’m so hungry and I haven’t seen Gabe in a week. I wish he would just come home and make me dinner.” My mom wasn’t empathetic in the slightest, she had four kids and for 25 years juggled homework, brown-bagged lunches, dinners, housework, track schedules while concurrently graduating first with a Master’s degree and then with a Ph.D. Super Dr. Mom. Here I was, 10 weeks into being pregnant and I was falling apart.
“Sarah, you can’t expect him to make you dinner. You need to plan your meals on the weekend and get yourself set up for the week with easy to cook dinners.” I got off the phone upset with myself. Of course she’d side with him. Dr. Mom wasn’t going to placate me or “yes” me like a best friend would, instead she’d dig into her own reservoir of knowledge and strength and tell me to find a way to do it on my own. I realized a few things after hanging up: I shouldn’t dial hungry and I should have called my husband. There was no way he could have known that I was feeling this way and might be able to help find a solution before I fell apart.
We’d been ships passing in the night for a few months now during the workweek. It used to be that we’d have time to talk or have a late dinner together after work, but now that the baby had decided to set my bedtime at 8:30, I was saying “good-night” over the phone and mumbling while stretching my arms out like a mummy, “I love you, I miss you,” around midnight half asleep as I felt him crawl into bed.
We talked that night and found a solution, we’d book one night a week from six to eight where he’d be home to have dinner and talk during the workweek. To my surprise, I discovered that booking this time in his work calendar meant that it was mine and wouldn’t get bumped for other meetings. He was still in the early stages of a startup and knowing how much work it involved, I’d been cheering and offering support from the sidelines for over a year. I wanted to give him as much time as possible before our lives would change with a new addition, but I hadn’t counted on needing more support in the process.
Fast-forward to the following Wednesday and he was home at six and I was cooking dinner. Three courses. My energy surprised me and I discovered that I didn’t want him to make me dinner like a spoiled pregnant lapdog, but that I just wanted to share dinner with him and spend time with him. I also craved the attention and support that I found I needed now, that I hadn’t needed before. He used to call me fiercely independent but my new reality was requiring rewiring.
I hope some day to be a super mom like my own, but in the meantime I’m glad to have discovered that I can adapt and he can adapt as we’re growing our baby and the company.
Thanks for the image Momster Tales!
Sarah is an LA based online marketer and writer navigating her way as the wife of a start-up company owner. Since becoming pregnant, you can usually find her in the fridge.
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