Originally Journaled September 23, 2021

I’m sitting here after wiping my wet eyes, thinking

“Did this really just happen?”

I was in full mommy-work mode. I had a huge deadline to fulfill. It felt like everything I needed to do was taking longer than expected. Ain’t it annoying when that happens?!?

I’d hardly interacted with Mark (my husband) but it was only because I was so focused on my deadline. I communicated that I needed to get things done so my absence wouldn’t cause concern. It didn’t cause concern, it caused conflict. And when that combative, weird energy sneaks in – it’s usually not a cute story.

Our son Micah was only 3 months old and it was a struggle to get into a new normal. I had only taken breaks (and hardly that) to nurse him and use the restroom. I barely even ate or walked around. I was out of my usual work groove, so everything was feeling foreign and “slow”.

By hour #5, I’m frustrated. Sarai is losing her mind trying to get to me, and I wince every time I hear Micah cough. He was still fighting off a cold he’d had for a week. Then, the hunger cry starts, and if my focus wasn’t thrown off yet – it was now.

I thought “when can I just focus on one thing? I wish I could feel like I DON’T have to constantly multitask.”

Oh, and then this happened…

I finally email off my deliverables and head back into the kitchen. I wanted something sweet to eat. I go towards the freezer and I notice the frozen food isn’t so frozen. It’s more like 40% frozen. Then, my heart drops.

My milk stash.

I start touching the many bags of precious liquid gold and continue to sink as more of them are less and less frozen.

My breast milk…not just some of it, but all of it.

I bust into the bathroom where Mark is currently occupying. I yell at him saying “Did you know something was up with the freezer??” He says “Yeah, I found…” and I begin to not understand him. It’s like his voice just faded into babbling. I thought “Was he saying he KNEW the freezer wasn’t working and didn’t say anything or better yet – fix it?!?”

“I found it wasn’t working after I got home earlier”

He had been home by this point for over 6 hrs. At this point, I’m feeling just about ready to turn all the way UP on this man.

He’s now piling ice on top of my milk to save it. But that’s not what this post is really about.

---

When My Husband And I Aren’t On The Same Page, The System Malfunctions.

Messages don’t get delivered. Previsions aren’t made. Things like, because he’s irritated with me, he doesn’t think it’s worth talking to me about the freezer – and/or- I’m too busy working to be reached.

I worked so hard to pump that breast milk. SO HARD! Yes, I can produce more but I’ll never be able to recreate THAT milk from Micah’s during his first few weeks. I pumped like CRAZY and built up a stash I knew would allow me the freedom to leave Micah for a couple days here and there, knowing he’d be well fed. That milk was the most nutritious I’ll ever make for him.

And because Mark & I weren’t on the same page, I almost lost it. All of it. The breast milk itself, the future moments of freedom, my peace, and oneness with my husband.

See, Mark has a limit. He will allow me to push it pretty far when he knows I’m really into whatever I’m doing. But then, if I’m not paying attention, he starts to feel forgotten. He feels uncared for. Neglected. Yes, I can feel all the ways to feel about that and even justify my actions. But the truth is, I should have taken time for my husband, before the freezer broke. Even on a day where a huge deadline was approaching, making sure my husband felt loved had to be a priority. That day, I missed the target.

I had to realize that discerning the spiritual and emotional state of my husband on a daily basis was a critical part of my role as a wife. Yes, work pays the bills but if I make it a habit to put him second, third, or even fourth if you count a newborn + a toddler, then our marriage will suffer greatly. I had to start doing things differently.

So yes, My husband ruined my milk stash. But it also was a wake up call. Was the breast milk the most important thing? Or was it a call to remember that before anything else, I’m a daughter of the Most High, and rib to Mark Z. Godbolt. If that order is intact – everything else, works.