The first year.
It’s full of all the feels and the things and the most intense love a person can hold in their heart. It’s also full of change. Big change for you and hubby/bf/partner/whomever.
They warn you about it – the “adjustment period”, but it’s a phenomenon that’s very hard to put into words, and perhaps something you wouldn’t believe anyway.
It’s hard to imagine the slow descent into sleep deprived hell that addles even the sharpest of minds and can set even the most loving of lovers at each other’s throats.
I spanked so many ‘finals weeks’ at university, I’ve got this.” You may be like me and assure EVERYONE who tries to warn you that you’re the oldest of six kids AND you spanked finals week and you’ve got this.
To those of you who do indeed “got this”, consider my hat doffed and a proper curtsy as well to show my awe and respect for all you are accomplishing!
To the rest of you (us), I say – it gets better!
Think of the grating, irritating, nagging, spatting hell hole that your relationship may become as a tunnel to a better place.
When you are so exhausted and so insanely tired of fighting that packing up your diaper bag and sleeping on your sister’s couch seems like a viable option, keep digging. When the feelings of being unappreciated, unsupported and neglected become insurmountable and you have complained the ears off of everyone you love and have resorted to paying a therapist to listen to you, keep digging.
Keep at it at least through that first year. Give it 18 months.
Hate each other in silence for a year and a half if you must but PLEASE, don’t make any permanent decisions until after that time.
So many families are broken up because it is just so freaking HARD to get through those aching months, but it’s possible that when you and your family emerge and take stock of the rubble, you’ll find that you can rebuild (with work and patience) into the shining palace you dreamed of when you first imagined your “family”.
Apply this rule to each child born – some require more adjusting than others.