digging down deep: the excavation of Me.

Well, this is awkward. First of all, we don’t know each other that well yet. And so maybe I should have waited a while before writing about something like this. But, I didn’t. Second, and in the alternative, when I finally decided I'd go ahead and publish this, I probably should have spent a little more time editing to make sure it was soft and sweet and Makes A Point Without Upsetting Anyone. I am fairly sure I didn't spend appropriate time doing that.

But what I did in place of the editing is try to share here something about which I am passionate. I pray that the message conveys.

In February 2005, my precious EB was born. While I was on maternity leave, originally scheduled to return to my Dallas law firm office about 5 months later, lots happened in the world. It’s odd to me that I remember so many details of that time, because current events, recent history, and old history simply escape me as a general rule. I suppose I was so raw that virtually everything around me made an impression.

On or about March 27, 2005, this article ran in the New York Times. The author, Ayelet Waldman, was a guest on Oprah. I watched the interview, and was amazed. As I held my 6 weeks old daughter in my arms, I listened to women at all stages of life and motherhood berate, challenge, question and applaud Waldman for saying “I love my husband more than I love my children.” Specifically, Waldman wrote about the the birth of her first daughter:

I do love her. But I'm not in love with her. Nor with her two brothers or sister. Yes, I have four children. Four children with whom I spend a good part of every day: bathing them, combing their hair, sitting with them while they do their homework, holding them while they weep their tragic tears. But I'm not in love with any of them. I am in love with my husband.

It is his face that inspires in me paroxysms of infatuated devotion. If a good mother is one who loves her child more than anyone else in the world, I am not a good mother. I am in fact a bad mother. I love my husband more than I love my children.

Waldman’s position seemed very reasonable to me at the time. Even, dare I say, relieving. I have been honest in personal circles about the fact that I was not swept off my feet by my first daughter’s birth. In fact, I remember the moment that I first gazed at her through tears of unmatched love. And that was not the moment she was born. She was 10 weeks old. So if you follow my timeline, Waldman’s thesis really rescued me from some nutty feelings of emotional inadequacy (among other kinds of inadequacy that I was feeling as a brand new mama).

But now here I am. Five years and two more munchkins later. And Waldman’s brave thesis rings truer for me today than it did back then. Indeed, my love for my children has grown exponentially. I know my five year old really well and she rocks my world daily. Mostly in good ways. I’m getting to know my 2 ½ year old more and more every day and Main Man can just melt my heart. And, while I’ve just recently met the baby, she seems like someone I’m going to like immensely.

As my love for those babies has grown, so much more has my love for their father. I adore him. I won’t go into all the details about why I adore him. But I do. Is there a better word than adore? Because what I am trying to convey here is really important.

I admire him.

I respect him.

I want to be more like him in so many ways.

Indeed, if I'm honestly identifying the source of most of the frustration I ever feel toward him, it is that he is one of the few people I encounter on a daily basis who is really much better than I am at a whole lot of the important things. Unlike Waldman’s supposition about her man – “he’s really not that much better than other men” – my husband really is that much better than other people in a lot of ways.

And so that’s why the one place I part ways with Waldman may be a little surprising.

Unlike her, I can imagine life without him. And I am oh-so-thankful that I can.

I bristle a little when I hear anyone (man or woman) say some version of “I cannot fathom what I would do without my partner.” I mean, I know that is an oft-expressed sentiment, usually intended as a lauding of sorts, and in most instances without a lot of deep critical analysis behind it. But still, it concerns me. Would life without my husband be seamless? No. Would it be an emotional disaster? Yes, for a long while.

But dare I allow myself to be in a position where I simply couldn't manage my way out of that abyss because I'm afraid to think about the possibility? Absolutely not.

Now, IF you have read this far, you MUST keep reading to the end.

Once we began adding Little Moons to our family, I began subconsciously challenging myself with an exercise now and then. When our circumstances changed substantively, or just a couple times each year, I would let myself "go there" mentally. I would consider whether my contacts (personal and professional), my career (or not), my support structure, my spiritual life, and my overall personal situation was scalable to handle a massive increase in pressure and demand. Just to make sure that in the event I had to do this gig alone, I wouldn't discover gaping holes. And let me tell you, I forced myself to dig way down. Once I determined that things were in reasonable order, I would breathe deeply and quit thinking.

I am certain that this practice is, in many ways, born of my Type A personality. My affinity for the Best Laid Plan. My unabashed need for control. And I have no misconception about the fact that it is precisely those personality traits that can make life's hiccups even more challenging. I also know, however, that keeping my mind sharp and attuned to what's going on in every inch of my world causes me to discover more about who I am. All at once it gives me a checklist of things to work on and a lot of confidence. Immense confidence. My husband would say, sexy confidence.

I don't think about what if he runs off with a Little Miss Thang? or God forbid something awful happens. I have no reason to expect either of those tragedies, or any other, will ever occur. This is about me. Me as a mom. Me as a woman. Me as an individual responsible not just for the care and feeding of a family, but the only one responsible for the continued growth and development of my individual person. Not just about getting by, but about ensuring that a path exists by which I could move forward under any circumstance.

This is about making sure I am creating and maintaining a balance in my life that makes me comfortable.

This year has brought about a significant change in our day-to-day. New baby has stretched us in every way, caused me to use some muscles (literally and figuratively) that were beginning to atrophy. His travel and work schedule has been insane (for us), and I have found myself doing much more of the heavy lifting than I ever had before. I have been reminded that my husband does, on a regular basis, far more than I ever could have expected or hoped from a partner. And I have learned that it is really, really valuable for me to have that help interrupted for some periods of time in order to sharpen my skills as a One Man Band.

Recently after returning from a lengthy road trip, my husband gave me one of the best compliments I could have hoped to earn. He said “I am so glad to know that when I am away you don’t miss a beat.” He makes it clear to me on a regular basis that my independence gives him confidence to do what he does, knowing that I can hold down the fort, take care of a house and the kids and the bills and keep everyone clothed and fed and happy even when he can't provide a helping hand.

This has nothing to do with working outside the home or not. Or about making a lot of money or not. My constant challenge to myself is to develop an element of self-reliance and internal strength somewhere deep inside that I am able to call to active duty on a moment’s notice. It makes me a better partner. It makes me the kind of person my husband wants on his team. It makes me the kind of person I want on my team.

I need my husband for so many reasons. Deeply and passionately, with him I am a better, more complete, more fulfilled person than I could ever hope to be without him. I am more responsible because of him. I am funnier because of him. I am kinder because of him. I am stronger and more vulnerable. All because of him. But while I have learned all of those things from him, those things are now part of me. Inextricably woven into my fabric. And I hope and pray and truly believe that if I ever have to Do This alone for a week or a month or a lifetime, he and I both will be proud of the result.

Maybe I'm late to the party in recognizing the importance of finding my role, relishing it, and always being "at the ready" to take on more if the call comes. In that case, you're likely saying to yourself "goodness. Girlfriend needs to calm down." If, however, you disagree with me - my opinion or the level of importance I place on this topic - slightly or vehemently, I’m glad. So long as that means your role in your family works for you and inspires in you a deep, personal, unshakable confidence.

And you can go ahead and breathe a sigh of relief that I’m not your wife.

photo by Paul Keller