It took us a while to realize what was going on even though all the signs were there. For example, she hates to shed tears, even in front of me, but openly cried when a member of Good Morning America got to go swim with Shamu.
Now, I’ve tried to help her with some of these mood swings, and desperately jumped out of the way of others, but this is all new to both of us, so we’re just doing our best to manage.
On the other side of things, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in my own personality over the last few weeks. Instead of really listening to what my wife has to say as a loving and caring husband, I’ve started pre-judging everything that she says based on “the crazy hormone thing”. Not to mention, this whole “going to be a father thing” is still something I’m adjusting too as well, and while I’m usually really good about talking to Jennifer whenever something is bothering me, I’m not always so good about recognizing the root issue before it grows into a problem.
Yesterday was a unique example of all of these things hitting at once in a “perfect storm” scenario.
I had planned a fun little trip for us to the apple orchard (thanks for the idea J) where we would pick some apples, take a hayride, and generally get out in the wonderful fall weather. I love this time of year and wanted nothing more than to spend a romantic day with my lovely wife. When Jenn woke up sick, I realized pretty quickly that it wasn’t going to happen. Instead, she wanted to clean up the house and rearrange the living room.
Now, one of my prized processions is my Big Ass Television (or BAT for short.) A few posts ago I said I didn’t know how I defined happiness before Jenn, and I still don’t, but BAT fell into that definition somewhere. It’s 56 inches of pure, unmitigated, bliss. I don’t put a whole lot of stock on possessions, but this is one of those things that just makes me smile every time I see it. Hell, it makes EVERY guy smile when they see it. Consequently, most women, including Jenn, say “it’s too big,” which, as a general rule just makes me smile bigger, any time I hear it (which sadly, isn’t as often as I’d like.) Ya simply ain’t lived until you’ve surfed Skin-a-max in split screen while watching Monday night football on HD. My point is the BAT is the technological equivalent of a monster truck. It’s not supposed to be pretty, it’s supposed to be damn cool, and it is, by god, it is.
Long live the BAT. (And the men in the congregation said “Amen”)
Sorry… where was I?
Anyway, the problem with the BAT (if you want to call it a problem) is that it takes up a good chunk of whatever room it’s in (I got it before Plasma TVs were even remotely affordable.) In addition, ever since we had that giant power outage a few months ago, it’s had this random problem of having the gamma “pop” on it and it goes dark and stays that way, until you turn it off and back on. Sometimes you can watch for an hour or two before you have to restart, sometimes ten minutes. I need to get a repair guy out to fix it, but we’ve been saving for our honeymoon and I didn’t want to spend the cash.
Jenn got fed up with all of these issues yesterday and said, “Let’s just get rid of the damn thing.” To which I very politely said, “No chance.”
She came back with “Wouldn’t you rather have a nice Plasma screen?” To which I answered, in my slightly smarmy tone, “Certainly. So whenever you want to buy me one of appropriate size and quality, I’ll be more than happy to get rid of this one. Until then, this one stays.”
“But it’s not very feng shui. And it’s going to cost an arm and a leg to fix.”
“Fuck feng and his shui. Jenn, let me make this as clear as I can: I’m not getting rid of my television. And let me warn you… you don’t want to keep going down this path, ‘cause you’re just going to piss me off.”
And things went badly from there.
Holy crap. Let me warn you? My television? Ok, now who’s sounding loony?
Once the discussion broiled down to “Hey hubby, go fuck yourself” as she stormed out the door, I really started to look at what the issue was for me. When Jenn called back we really got to talk it out.
For months, Jenn’s been trying to make our place more “ours” and over the last few weeks, she’s specifically been obsessing about how baby friendly (or lack thereof) our place is. She’s systematically going through the entire house and saying “what if?” She’s talked about getting rid of our great steel and leather couch that I’ve only had about two or three years. The matching kitchen table I’ve had for less time. Turning my photo studio into either a second bedroom or a nursery. What we’re going to do with my cranky, half-blind dog that apparently isn’t real fond of kids.
I, on the other hand, have been obsessing about losing my identity. Always working and never having time to do my art. Losing guys night. Not having a place to do art. Putting everyone’s wants and needs in front of mine to the point where I don’t even know who I fucking am anymore. And I’m not saying that’s where I’m at, but I could see that happening to me and it scares the crap out of me.
So when my beautiful wife says something like “let’s get rid of the TV” I hear “let’s cut off your balls and put them in a jar in the cabinet. I’ll keep the key in my purse.” Or when she says, “what are we going to do about the dog?” I’m thinking “the kid’s not even born yet and you want to get rid of my dog!”
Point is, this is an emotional roller coaster ride for the both of us, but at least she has an excuse.
When we were talking all of this out Jenn said “Maybe we’re just not ready” and that was like a bucket of cold water for me. It certainly got my out of my self-absorbed funk. I remembered my buddy here at work telling me about how he and his wife were pretty certain they were going to have a baby too, but weren’t telling anyone yet. And I remembered a week later when he told me that his wife had miscarried. I remembered all of those things and realized just how blessed I am that this is happening to us. And most importantly, how lucky I am to be going through it with someone as wonderful as Jenn.
