On the Other Side of the Hump
My mother and I couldn’t be more different. Make no mistake, I have always believed her heart holds an abundant amount of love for all of her children and now grandchildren, but all of her offspring are painfully aware it’s communicated with little tact or empathy. Through much work, I can say I give her the benefit of the doubt regarding her delivery because her direct words on more than one occasion have altered the trajectory of my life. She added tidbits of wisdom to our daily adulting from childrearing to maintaining relationships. Though at times her advice was met with deadpan stares, frustration, and a feeling of hopelessness, dismissing it because of my observance of her failures in these departments, she also came through for me. Her wisdom preceded the Google search engine or the local Facebook parenting group. Somehow, we muddled through our middle years of marriage and co-parenting teens.
When our children entered high school years, our family felt like it was at times spiraling out of control. We were involved in band competitions most weekends. I was attaining another graduate degree and substitute teaching. Our children were highly involved with their peers, filling our house with loud, hungry and very normal adolescents. Instead of reaching for my husband and holding on for the ride, I retreated to my books and others for comfort. It was one of the lowest point of our marriage bar none and I began to question if we would make it together. In an act of desperation, I opened up to mom about what I was feeling and these are the gist of her words:
“Denise, if you can make it through this stage in your life when your kids are in high demand and any closeness or connection feels lost, you will be blessed to find the best part of your marriage lies just on the other side of this hump.”
All I could do was hold on to the memory of the vow we made and the depth of love we shared, and I began to wonder if it would return. As the months passed, one by one the children left and with them the other stressors. Sitting side by side on our bed, we began to cling together enduring the loss, weeping over all the missing hubbub. One by one our babies marched out our doors, we no longer felt the pressure of co-parenting and our time returned. These demands were replaced with family texts and weekend porch gatherings, and we were especially fortunate on vacations and holidays.
In our case, we experienced an empty-nest surge that brought us together and we survived that dry space of disconnection. Surprisingly, I look back and Mom’s commonsensical tout to hang in there is what kept me from giving up when all that I now enjoy was on just on the other side of that hump.
