Weekends
It occurred to me this weekend that the weekends Andrew and I spend alone together are coming rapidly to an end. There are six weekends left until my due date, October 17. We have some fun things planned—a visit from Andrew’s sister, a visit from Michelle and her baby girl, an overnight in San Francisco—which leaves us with three “regular” weekends of farmer’s-marketing and relaxing around the house, just the two of us. This is a strange and somewhat disturbing thought.
We are the kind of couple that spends the majority of our time together. This is partly because we know almost no one here, but mostly it’s because that’s just how we are. We like face time. Whether it’s the grocery store, the gym, Target, prenatal appointments, or wherever else, we go there together. The only places we consistently go alone are work (Andrew) and yoga (me). Surely, this will change once the baby comes—it might be easier for one of us to grocery-shop while the other stays home with the sleeping/crying/eating child. Our weekend trips, while I’m certain we’ll still take them now and then, will be a bit more logistically challenging than packing a backpack and hitting the road.
It’s hard to imagine what our changed weekends will look like once the baby comes. Impossible, even. And I can’t shake the sense of losing something—leaving something behind—even though we’re not really losing anything but gaining something wonderful, expanding our little family from two to three. It’s the beginning of something new, a new stage, and these five years we’ve had without a baby will quickly be overtaken by the many coming years we’ll spend with.
Sometimes we wonder if we’ll remember what it was like—the before. Will we miss it? Or will our new kind of happiness simply become the way it is, with the before itself the incomprehensible thing?
We are the kind of couple that spends the majority of our time together. This is partly because we know almost no one here, but mostly it’s because that’s just how we are. We like face time. Whether it’s the grocery store, the gym, Target, prenatal appointments, or wherever else, we go there together. The only places we consistently go alone are work (Andrew) and yoga (me). Surely, this will change once the baby comes—it might be easier for one of us to grocery-shop while the other stays home with the sleeping/crying/eating child. Our weekend trips, while I’m certain we’ll still take them now and then, will be a bit more logistically challenging than packing a backpack and hitting the road.
It’s hard to imagine what our changed weekends will look like once the baby comes. Impossible, even. And I can’t shake the sense of losing something—leaving something behind—even though we’re not really losing anything but gaining something wonderful, expanding our little family from two to three. It’s the beginning of something new, a new stage, and these five years we’ve had without a baby will quickly be overtaken by the many coming years we’ll spend with.
Sometimes we wonder if we’ll remember what it was like—the before. Will we miss it? Or will our new kind of happiness simply become the way it is, with the before itself the incomprehensible thing?
Comments
But that time lasts just a little bit. Now I love spending time with the kids and we don't miss our "alone" time as much. You will have those days where you will say - "what were we thinking" but that is completely normal.
No one can explain the love that is coming until you have it yourself. You will put you last for the first time in your life, and it will feel right.
You will find a whole new world of love when your baby comes. You will fall in love with your husband deeper and more completely than you ever thought possible.
Still, If you're like me, you will miss these "just us" moments, even while you're hearts and lives fill up with the wonder of baby.