I’ve noticed the way you gaze at me with a sense of yearning. It’s clear that you miss the moments we once shared before the kids arrived—the lazy mornings spent binge-watching our favorite shows, when it felt like it was just us against the world.
I want you to know I feel the same way.
I recognize how you’ve been putting on a brave front while navigating life on your own. I’ve unintentionally closed myself off, and I can tell that you long for your confidant.
But I want to assure you, I am still here.
I sense that there’s a part of you that wishes I would stay home, focus on the children, tidy up our hectic space, and dedicate more time to you instead of my demanding job as a nurse. I want you to understand that I am acutely aware of the sacrifices our family has made for me to continue my career, and I am truly grateful for your support.
I feel the distance between us, particularly during the frantic mornings, at dinner when we’re too exhausted to engage, and at night when we lie in bed, unconnected, pretending to be asleep.
I’m here to ask for your patience.
These past five years have been a whirlwind. We’ve faced the challenges of planning a wedding, dealing with the financial strains of homeownership, and embracing the wonderful chaos of parenthood as we raise two spirited children who are destined to make their mark on the world. We’ve supported each other through job stresses and complicated relationships. We’ve persevered together.
But I know I haven’t been the partner you need lately, and it’s taking a toll on you. You understand that I’m aware of this disconnect, but I also know that I’m not in a place to give more right now. I need you to be strong for both of us. I need to focus on my own well-being first, or we risk capsizing.
In the last five years, I’ve been pregnant twice. My body has gone through significant changes, gaining and losing weight as it nurtured our children. I have scars, and I sometimes feel like a shadow of my former self. Yet, I know you see beauty in me, despite how I perceive myself.
Since becoming a parent, I’ve sought help from various professionals to mend the physical toll that carrying our children has taken on my body. I know you’ll stand by me, even if future challenges arise, like possible surgery.
My wardrobe is now filled with an odd mix of maternity clothes and items that either don’t fit or are well-worn. As I slowly reclaim my body, the mere thought of adding to our family makes me hesitate, even though deep down, I feel that my journey isn’t done.
I oscillate between laughter and tears, caught in the whirlwind of parenting, but I know you’ll always be there for me, offering your shoulder to cry on and understanding my emotional ups and downs.
These years have been tough, but I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything. I wouldn’t want to experience it with anyone but you.
Commitment to Us
So, my dear partner, I want to remind you that I’m committed to us. Though it may not seem like it now, there’s no other place I’d rather be. As our children grow and we emerge from this beautiful chaos, I promise there will be more time for us, and I’ll have more of myself to give to you.
But for now, I need to rediscover my self-worth, something you’ve always seen in me. Please, continue to wait for me.
Resources for Family Planning
If you’re looking for more information on family planning and other related topics, you might find this link on artificial insemination kits helpful. Additionally, this resource on selecting a donor provides valuable insights, and the CDC has an excellent FAQ on pregnancy and home insemination that might be worth exploring.
Summary
This heartfelt letter to a husband expresses a wife’s feelings of longing for their pre-parenting days and acknowledges the sacrifices they’ve made for their family. She shares her struggles with self-image since becoming a mother, requests patience from her husband, and affirms her commitment to their partnership. It emphasizes the idea that as they navigate the challenges of parenthood, they will eventually have more time for each other.