I am in Nairobi, Kenya, as I write this. It is the last day of my six days here, though if you add up the travel days, I would be away from home for a total of eight days.
It is hard to be away from Tov. I missed him from the moment I stepped into the Uber that took me to the LAX airport. But there are ways to mitigate that ache, thanks to technology. I can watch him sleep at real time through the baby camera; I can FaceTime him; I can rewatch old videos of him on my phone. What’s harder and unmitigable, is the burden these travels put on David and me. It puts a strain on our marriage.
There are a pair of traditional Korean wooden ducks in our home. On our wedding day, I carried these ducks instead of a bouquet of flowers, and when people asked me what they mean, I told them the ducks symbolize commitment, longevity, and loyalty in marriage. If the ducks are facing each other, that means all is well in our marriage. If the ducks are facing opposite away from one another, that means we’ve had a quarrel, and you better pray for us.
Currently, the ducks are neither facing each other nor away from one another. They’re both angled so that they’re wing-to-wing facing the same direction. I placed them that way, because I felt it captured where David and I are in our marriage in this season of our life: We are not at odds, but neither are we quite “together” the same way we used to be before we had a child. We rarely have time where it’s just him and me, with optimal energy and undivided attention to each other. We’ve only been on one date since Tov was born. Our daily evening walks are usually quite stressful when Tov is fussing. We don’t sit together at church anymore, because one of us has to hold Tov so he doesn’t disrupt the service. We are always tired, like an old, outdated iPhone that can never be fully charged. By the time I put Tov down to bed at night, David is zoning out, and I’m either zoning out myself or catching up on work that I’ve missed.
This is co-parenting. We share a son, and we share the responsibilities of keeping him alive and raising him well. All our attention and energy and priorities are directed at him, and less so at each other.
Yes, yes, I know going on regular dates is very important, blah blah. I know of couples with young babies who go on resort vacations and ski trips. Well, we are not that couple. We simply do not have the energy or interest to go on a “vacation” in which we pay thousands of dollars just to do the same thing we do at home, only with more stress. People have kindly offered to babysit Tov, but with his separation anxiety, I feel bad asking anyone to watch him when I know he’ll be screaming for hours, and it would grieve my heart to know that anyone would have to “tolerate” Tov.
The first year of parenting has been rough for David and me in terms of figuring out how to partner together so that the burden of parenthood doesn’t fall disproportionately on one person. That’s probably a modern dilemma, now that typically both wife and husband work. But even so, the vast majority of the time, the burden of parenthood does fall heavier on the woman, if only because of biology. That’s been piling up irritation and resentment inside me– not just towards David, but toward the entire male species. Subconsciously, I’ve been keeping score of all the times I’ve felt like I’ve been taken for granted, unappreciated, stretched, and neglected. And David feels the same when I’m gone on work trips for long stretches of time.
Which brings me here to Nairobi. I could feel David’s fatigue when his text messages to me became increasingly brief and curt. From his position, it probably felt like he was breaking his back solo-parenting while his wife is in some exotic place galavanting with the giraffes. Everything is off at home when I’m gone, and Tov feels it. He doesn’t sleep as well and he gets very needy. It makes parenting extra hard. From my position, I’m just doing my job. I’m not in Kenya to play. I think of David and Tov all the time and don’t even have much interest in going on a safari trip because they’re not here with me. Does he want me to quit my job? And why does it have to be me who sacrifices my career? Why do I have to feel like I have to “make up” to him when I return home, when I myself am tired and jet-lagged?
You see where my brain goes? And do you see where it begins?
I’ll speak for myself only: I keep score. There’s a tally in my brain– you did this much, I did this much. I did this much more, so you should be OK with doing at least this much. You do this much, I’ll repay with this much.
The greatest struggle in a marriage with a young child is this invisible tally. It makes parenthood almost transactional. We often bounce Tov back and forth like a basketball– here, your turn. OK, now it’s my turn. Here, you take him so I can do this, and later I’ll take him so you can do that.
It sounds pretty terrible to write it out like this. I am exposing the biggest issue in our family that we need to solve prayerfully, wisely, lovingly. There is no question both David and I love each other, and we love Tov with all our heart. We both want the best for Tov, and we want him to grow up in a thriving, healthy home. We do it well individually– but we’ve yet to figure out how to do it together as one family unit. We are the pair of ducks looking at the same direction, but not at each other. Our child is off to our side, not in between us.
This is something I’m praying about.