Everyone has heard the line, "I love you, but I'm not in love with you." It's cheesy, and it's lame. It's the classic cheesy, lame break up line. But I have been thinking about it almost nonstop for the last 24 hours.
Mike and I were fighting last night. Again. And he said to me that even when we fight, he loves me, but he feels like maybe I don't love him. That he feels like it's been like this since before we got married. I was gobsmacked. I don't want him to feel that way... But then I started thinking, and I am worried that he's right. I'm worried that I love him, but I'm not in love with him anymore.
When he was gone, I missed him, but not like I've missed him before. I missed his familiar presence. I missed chatting with him and knowing what he was doing. Sort of like I miss my friends when they're not around. I used to feel a soul-sucking loss when he was gone, even if it was just overnight.
Then there's sex. Or rather, there isn't. We used to have a really active sex life and now we don't. I just don't feel much like doing it anymore, and when we do have sex, I mostly want it to be over with as soon as possible. I don't really like to kiss him much anymore-- not with tongue, anyway. I do give him pecks on the cheek or on the mouth all the time.
Of course, things change, so it's not like I expect to feel the same exact degree of passion I felt before, but I guess it's dawned on me how little passion I feel. I love Mike very much. He's a good person and he gave me a gorgeous baby. And I don't *not* want to be with him, I'm just not currently feeling like I absolutely *do* want to. I feel like I'm 80 and in one of those relationships where the passion has faded, but you have good companionship. Except Mike's not content with that, and I know I shouldn't be, either. It's not good for any of us, including Michaela.
Can I get my passion back? And if so, how?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Sleep disturbance
It shouldn't be harder to have Mike here than gone, but right now, it feels like it is. Mike was gone Friday morning through last night on a trip. He was in Vegas, whooping it up with his brothers and I was home with the baby. My mom came over Friday and helped me with her, and I went to her house Monday so she could help while I was on conference calls for work, but I spent all of the nights taking care of Michaela myself.
Mike gets back last night and is pooped. Of course he is, all he did was drink and gamble and walk and party for four days. Still, he "generously" offers to get up with Michaela in the middle of the night. We put her down at about 9 p.m. At 12:30 a.m., I get up to pump. Mike is still awake. At 2:30, Michaela gets up and Mike changes and feeds her (feeds her in our bed, which I have specifically asked him not to do). At 5:30, I get up to pump again. At 7, Michaela wakes up hungry. I ask Mike to feed her and he says he's tired. I remind him that he said he'd get up with her and he says he only said he'd do it at night and that it was now morning. I asked him to do it anyway. He gets up, pops a pacifier in her mouth and comes back to bed. She proceeds to make noise and suck loudly on her hand for the next half hour, a time period in which I can't go back to sleep because all I can hear is my baby. I don't blame Michaela-- she was hungry. So at 7:30, I get up and feed her. Mike promptly goes back to sleep. It's now a little after 8 and I'm up for the day. I can't go back to sleep once I get up at this time of the morning.
I am pissed off because I have to get up multiple times a night EVERY NIGHT, whether Michaela sleeps through it or not. And I manage. I'm pissed because I know that he's tired, but he has no one to blame but himself. He got to sleep full nights of sleep, 3 nights in a row. He could have partied less hard if it was going to be so difficult for him to get up. He could have gone to bed before 1:30 last night. I am pissed off because it's chicken shit to pull the "I'm tired" card without any regard to the fact that I was the only one getting up with her while he was gone and that I have to get up multiple times a night every night. It would have been a really nice gesture on his part to suck it up and get up. Not to mention the fact that he can take a nap today during the day. I can't because I will be working.
That's what I mean when I say it should be easier when he's here than harder.
Mike gets back last night and is pooped. Of course he is, all he did was drink and gamble and walk and party for four days. Still, he "generously" offers to get up with Michaela in the middle of the night. We put her down at about 9 p.m. At 12:30 a.m., I get up to pump. Mike is still awake. At 2:30, Michaela gets up and Mike changes and feeds her (feeds her in our bed, which I have specifically asked him not to do). At 5:30, I get up to pump again. At 7, Michaela wakes up hungry. I ask Mike to feed her and he says he's tired. I remind him that he said he'd get up with her and he says he only said he'd do it at night and that it was now morning. I asked him to do it anyway. He gets up, pops a pacifier in her mouth and comes back to bed. She proceeds to make noise and suck loudly on her hand for the next half hour, a time period in which I can't go back to sleep because all I can hear is my baby. I don't blame Michaela-- she was hungry. So at 7:30, I get up and feed her. Mike promptly goes back to sleep. It's now a little after 8 and I'm up for the day. I can't go back to sleep once I get up at this time of the morning.
I am pissed off because I have to get up multiple times a night EVERY NIGHT, whether Michaela sleeps through it or not. And I manage. I'm pissed because I know that he's tired, but he has no one to blame but himself. He got to sleep full nights of sleep, 3 nights in a row. He could have partied less hard if it was going to be so difficult for him to get up. He could have gone to bed before 1:30 last night. I am pissed off because it's chicken shit to pull the "I'm tired" card without any regard to the fact that I was the only one getting up with her while he was gone and that I have to get up multiple times a night every night. It would have been a really nice gesture on his part to suck it up and get up. Not to mention the fact that he can take a nap today during the day. I can't because I will be working.
That's what I mean when I say it should be easier when he's here than harder.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Four Month Update
I try not to be too Type A, too competitive about Michaela. I know that comparing her to other babies is a recipe for disaster. And the doctor has told us that since Michaela was a month early, we should give her an extra month to do things. But I have a couple of friends who have babies around the same age as Michaela. One is a girl who is 10 days younger, the other is a boy who is 2 weeks older. Today I had lunch with the friend with the daughter and I couldn't help but compare the two babies in my head. The girl, V, has rolled over. Michaela hasn't. V can grab her feet. Michaela can't. The boy, S, is smiling a lot and cooing a lot and seems much more... developed... than Michaela.
She'll be four months old tomorrow. I am reminding myself that she is growing by leaps and bounds and that one day equals a large percentage of her life. So I need to give her time and let her grow at her own rate. Besides, there's nothing I can do about it either way.
She is cooing, she smiles. Her vision seems to be really good. Michaela is a happy baby and clearly loves us very much. And I am happy with that!
Tuesday we go to the pediatrician for her four month check up. She'll get some shots (ugh) and get measured and weighed, and we'll get the pediatrician's professional opinion on Michaela's progress. More then!
She'll be four months old tomorrow. I am reminding myself that she is growing by leaps and bounds and that one day equals a large percentage of her life. So I need to give her time and let her grow at her own rate. Besides, there's nothing I can do about it either way.
She is cooing, she smiles. Her vision seems to be really good. Michaela is a happy baby and clearly loves us very much. And I am happy with that!
Tuesday we go to the pediatrician for her four month check up. She'll get some shots (ugh) and get measured and weighed, and we'll get the pediatrician's professional opinion on Michaela's progress. More then!
Yucky formula
I hate - HATE - the way formula smells. It's so disgusting! It reminds me of those nutritional supplements, like Ensure. They're actually pretty similar. I hope I don't ever get sick such that I need nutritional supplements, because I'm not sure I'd be able to take them. Feeling like that makes me feel bad for Michaela when I give her formula. But the way she eats, I don't have much of a choice!
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sweetest Thing in the World
I don't always put Michaela to bed, but sometimes I do. I put a disposable diaper on her (blasphemous in our cloth diapering household, but I'm tired of her special areas being red from diaper rash, due to sitting in a wet diaper all night) and then feed her. Michaela will suck pretty good on her bottle and then get tired. Her sucking slows and eventually she'll let me take the bottle out of her mouth. Her eyes close and I cradle her to my chest. She heaves a big sigh and then takes sweet little breaths as she falls asleep. I like to rest my head against hers, or press my lips to her soft skin, and hold her like that for a while before putting her to bed in her crib. Each time I do that, my heart fills with love and I try to make a mental movie of the moment and the feeling, because I know it won't be long. Soon enough, she'll be too big for me to hold like that, and eventually she'll get to a point where she will put herself to bed. So I savor the moment while I can.
Hoppy Easter
We had the nicest Easter dinner-- Michaela's first. It was the most fun I've had at a gathering of my family (outside of my wedding, which doesn't really count) in I don't know how long. My family, as I've mentioned, is weird, but yesterday, everything just came together perfectly.
First, some background.
I don't usually talk to my grandmother because I don't care for her. If we weren't related, I would have nothing to do with her. She's very stiff and formal and judgmental. I don't think she's very nice to certain relatives (including my father, who is the best kid she has who is still living) and there have been a number of things over the years that have made me feel like she's not very nice to me. (Like skipping my wedding rehearsal dinner because she was mad my grandfather's 2nd wife would be there.) She hasn't ever been to our house, though we've lived her for two and a half years. My grandmother supports her 50+ year old son, who I dislike, letting him live in her house rent-free, buying his food, cooking his meals, washing his clothes, etc.
My dad is famous for showing up to family dinners just in time to eat, then leaving about 15 minutes after the eating is done. It's like he has a timer set.
My mother gets weird around Mike sometimes. She thinks he thinks she's weird. Which she is, but he still likes her.
My brother works in a restaurant, and holidays are always their busiest days, so he is always working and can't ever join us for meals.
Against this backdrop, we decided to have people over for Easter. I invited my grandmother, who said she wasn't sure she could come because she couldn't leave my uncle to celebrate the holiday alone. If he'd like to come, I said, he is welcome, too. She said she'd let me know. A few days later, she called me back and said she was coming. My uncle opted to stay home. Fine by me.
My brother said he'd try to stop by, but he didn't know when he'd get off or if he'd be able to make it. I encouraged him to try and told him all the other fun people who would be over and all the delicious food we'd be eating.
My parents accepted our invitation, as did Mike's best friend, who fits right into our family. So I knew we'd be at least 6 people. Mike did all the cooking-- scalloped potatoes, ham, asparagus, brussel sprouts, homemade rosemary bread-- except the dessert, which I made (pineapple upside down cake). My grandmother brought a (from scratch) lemon meringue pie, too.
Everyone gathered. The baby was sleeping at first so we made small talk and finished up the food prep. Michaela woke up and my mom and dad took her. My dad held her for a while and cooed and made sweet sounds and tickled her, which was lovely to see. Normally, I don't get to see that because he never comes over. Michaela got hungry, so my mom fed her. My grandmother and parents talked about Michaela and about how much she's growing, how cute she is, etc.
We'd just sat down to eat when my brother came in, along with his friend and roommate, who our family has known for, like, 20 years. He's practically a member of our family. Everyone was thrilled to see the two of them. It was the first time my brother had joined us for a holiday meal in ages, and the first time my grandmother has seen him in forever.
The conversation flowed and everyone laughed and ate. I felt like the baby, in particular, made a difference. People were happy to see her, happy to be around her. I feel like Michaela made everyone come together and made everyone predisposed to be in a good mood.
A few years ago, Mike and I went to his family's house for Christmas and this incident stuck with me. His cousin's two sons were riding their tricycles into the wall as fast as they could and Mike's uncle was cracking up. Mike and his cousin remarked that when they were kids, that wouldn't have been tolerated, and his uncle not only wouldn't have been laughing, he would have been yelling at and punishing them. But there's something about grandkids that makes stuff like that okay. I think of yesterday's dinner as the first time I've had that realization as it relates to my family.
I kvetch about my family sometimes (okay, a lot), but things like this Easter dinner make me appreciate that as weird as they are, they love us very much and we have fun together.
It's an Easter miracle!
First, some background.
I don't usually talk to my grandmother because I don't care for her. If we weren't related, I would have nothing to do with her. She's very stiff and formal and judgmental. I don't think she's very nice to certain relatives (including my father, who is the best kid she has who is still living) and there have been a number of things over the years that have made me feel like she's not very nice to me. (Like skipping my wedding rehearsal dinner because she was mad my grandfather's 2nd wife would be there.) She hasn't ever been to our house, though we've lived her for two and a half years. My grandmother supports her 50+ year old son, who I dislike, letting him live in her house rent-free, buying his food, cooking his meals, washing his clothes, etc.
My dad is famous for showing up to family dinners just in time to eat, then leaving about 15 minutes after the eating is done. It's like he has a timer set.
My mother gets weird around Mike sometimes. She thinks he thinks she's weird. Which she is, but he still likes her.
My brother works in a restaurant, and holidays are always their busiest days, so he is always working and can't ever join us for meals.
Against this backdrop, we decided to have people over for Easter. I invited my grandmother, who said she wasn't sure she could come because she couldn't leave my uncle to celebrate the holiday alone. If he'd like to come, I said, he is welcome, too. She said she'd let me know. A few days later, she called me back and said she was coming. My uncle opted to stay home. Fine by me.
My brother said he'd try to stop by, but he didn't know when he'd get off or if he'd be able to make it. I encouraged him to try and told him all the other fun people who would be over and all the delicious food we'd be eating.
My parents accepted our invitation, as did Mike's best friend, who fits right into our family. So I knew we'd be at least 6 people. Mike did all the cooking-- scalloped potatoes, ham, asparagus, brussel sprouts, homemade rosemary bread-- except the dessert, which I made (pineapple upside down cake). My grandmother brought a (from scratch) lemon meringue pie, too.
Everyone gathered. The baby was sleeping at first so we made small talk and finished up the food prep. Michaela woke up and my mom and dad took her. My dad held her for a while and cooed and made sweet sounds and tickled her, which was lovely to see. Normally, I don't get to see that because he never comes over. Michaela got hungry, so my mom fed her. My grandmother and parents talked about Michaela and about how much she's growing, how cute she is, etc.
We'd just sat down to eat when my brother came in, along with his friend and roommate, who our family has known for, like, 20 years. He's practically a member of our family. Everyone was thrilled to see the two of them. It was the first time my brother had joined us for a holiday meal in ages, and the first time my grandmother has seen him in forever.
The conversation flowed and everyone laughed and ate. I felt like the baby, in particular, made a difference. People were happy to see her, happy to be around her. I feel like Michaela made everyone come together and made everyone predisposed to be in a good mood.
A few years ago, Mike and I went to his family's house for Christmas and this incident stuck with me. His cousin's two sons were riding their tricycles into the wall as fast as they could and Mike's uncle was cracking up. Mike and his cousin remarked that when they were kids, that wouldn't have been tolerated, and his uncle not only wouldn't have been laughing, he would have been yelling at and punishing them. But there's something about grandkids that makes stuff like that okay. I think of yesterday's dinner as the first time I've had that realization as it relates to my family.
I kvetch about my family sometimes (okay, a lot), but things like this Easter dinner make me appreciate that as weird as they are, they love us very much and we have fun together.
It's an Easter miracle!
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