Let me start by saying, I realize how wonderfully blessed I am to have the husband I do. He is truly a wonderful man. I also realize I am wonderfully blessed to have the marriage I do; my husband is not overseas fighting the war, or an OTR truck driver. He is home every night.

But I miss my husband.

We were married for six years, seven months and ten days. On the eleventh day, our son was born.

And our marriage drastically changed.

For six years, seven months and ten days, it was just us. It was Us against The World. We agreed from Day One of our marriage that we were a family; the two of us always referred to ourselves as a family. We never felt like having a child would make us a family; we are a family in and of ourselves. And because things don’t seem to come easy for us, we always joked that it really was Us vs. Them.

For six years, seven months and ten day, it was just us. We could sleep when we wanted, wake up when we wanted, eat when we wanted. We could go out to breakfast every Saturday morning (which we did a lot). In fact, about a year ago, realizing that our life could drastically change in a matter of days, I asked Keith if he would still take me out for breakfast once we were parents.

He said yes.

It hasn’t happened 🙂

But for so long it was just the two of us. We did everything together. Yes, we had/have our own favorite hobbies that we did apart from each other. But for the most part, we were together a lot.

And I miss him.

Keith works some 60 hours a week (as a truck driver) to ensure that we have food and clothing and a roof over our heads, not to mention diapers, formula and insurance for the hundreds of doctors appointments babies seem to require. He leaves the house about 6am (getting up about 5) and often doesn’t return home until 7pm or later. And he works really hard; this week he’s training to be a dispatcher, and his fellow drivers are treating him like crap. It’s hard to hear him talk about that, quite honestly. He quit his last job because he worked for a woman we affectionately called “satan” (and trust me, if you met her…).

A year ago, he could come home late and we could stay up late. Having dinner at 9pm, frequently at the brew pub down the street, was not unheard of. We would spend hours talking and laughing on Saturdays and Sundays. Impromptu road trips happened a lot; not overnight usually (thanks to the dogs), but for large chunks of our Saturdays and Sundays.

Now we’re aiming to be in bed by 9:30 at the very latest. Saturdays are full of playing with the Little Man and trying to scrape together the funds and time for the final renovations so we can move (and hopefully expand our family). I’ve written before about the well-documented strain becoming parents puts on a marriage. We argue more frequently; we’re both more tired than ever before. We both feel more pressure than ever before…

Neither of us regrets for a single second becoming parents, and I hope we never will.

But boy do I miss my husband….