“Do I have poop on me somewhere? I smell poop and it's not him. Smell me. Do I have poop smeared somewhere?”
It's funny how conversations change over the years in a
relationship. I have a pretty good memory for conversations due to
my work. I can remember events in people's lives usually better than
I can remember their names. I don't always remember exact quotes,
but I'm pretty good with topics. Where I can quote is if the subject
matter irritated me. In those conversations I'm like a court
reporter. I'm like Rain man. On point. I can tell you the
shirt Jim was wearing during the conversation.
I can remember the first day I was introduced to Jim.
I don't remember what was said exactly, but I know that it took place
behind the bar at the Titlow when a coworker who was training with
Jim formally introduced us. I had seen him around before, but hadn't
known his name or anything. I don't remember what was said, but I
remember thinking he was cute, and getting the idea that the feeling
was mutual. Not being vain, just saying. Men give it all away up
front... with their eyes.
From there, our first conversations were of the getting
to know you variety. We talked about our families, the years that he
had lived in New Orleans, my school, our plans for the future. The
usual stuff. Over the next few months we opened up more about our
feelings for each other and what we each expected from a serious
relationship. Some of these conversations were more difficult than
others. Some were downright heated depending on the topic, but
important conversations are rarely without some growing pains. I
attribute our strong, honest relationship now to the fact that we
didn't shy away from these painful topics in the beginning. I can
truly say that I know where Jim stands on every subject and I believe
he can say the same about me. It was worth the years of arguing in public and
parking lots I guess.
Slowly, our conversations evolved to discussions of
moving in together, household issues and eventually marriage. Getting
married conversations tend to be stressful. They usually revolve
around money or family, both of which can be hot button issues at
times. But we made it through and after the wedding things calmed
down again. We took time to just enjoy each other and our time
together. We talked about work, family and friends, travel and our
plans for the future. Normal. Very normal and sane. Eventually,
the time was right and we began discussing expanding our little
circle to include a family of our own. These early conversations on
the subject were magical and very bonding. We were ready,
appropriately terrified at the prospect, but excited beyond belief.
It was time.
When you're trying to conceive, your conversations change
again. They start out in the early days being an intoxicating mix of
excitement and nervous energy. It's a huge life decision, a big, big
change and you know it. Your life will never again be the same. Say
goodbye to those afternoon naps on the couch on weekends and meeting
for a drink on your way home from work just because you both feel like
it on a whim. When we decided to have kids, I was 30 and Jim was 35.
We were pretty happy with our lives and very set in our ways. A
large portion of our early TTC conversations revolved around this
fact. But we knew that there was something better waiting for us. We
discussed if we want a boy or a girl, nursery ideas, what season/holiday
I would be due around if I got pregnant that month. Fun topics.
Very positive ideas of the future. We would discuss who was
currently announcing pregnancies, and get excited thinking that we
would be pregnant at the same time as them. We joked about being at
student teacher days and school plays with them. Our conversations
were fun and flirty and we were both just ready for the next chapter
of our lives to be written.
As month after month ticked by without any good news,
the topics and tone of conversations changed. They became
significantly less sane and a million times less fun. The excitement
died down along with our positivity and we found ourselves in a weird
space where our conversations became surprisingly medical in nature.
It became all signs and symptoms, possible tests and treatments. Is
something wrong? What could be wrong? What does my chart look like
this month? How was my temperature today? I think I need another
new thermometer. Everyone on Amazon loves this progesterone cream.
The people who announced their pregnancies when we started trying
were now announcing the births of those children, and eventually
began announcing subsequent pregnancies. We stopped getting excited
when we talked about who was the latest to announce that they were
pregnant. I personally remember a phase where the majority of my sentences started out with the phrase “I read on a TTC
blog today...” It becomes not only the most important topic, but
the only topic. Well, not the only...
The topic of sex comes up a lot. Having it, not having
it, need to have it but really don't want to... Nothing leads to a
more lively conversation than getting up every single day of your
life, even weekends and holidays at 6:30am just to take your
temperature and chart it in an app than getting to the one day a
month that it is imperative that you do the deed to be told, “I
just ate a big meal, can it wait until tomorrow?” Those are fun
conversations for everyone. It includes the f word but not in the
fun, sexy way that you are picturing.
And then there are the days when there are no more
words. At the saddest point in my life, when I felt so low that I
couldn't imagine the day that a genuine smile would ever cross my
lips again, my biggest fear was that Jim would walk into the crowded
room where I was standing on the brink of falling apart. I knew that
if he looked into my eyes, no words would be needed for him to know
my pain, and that would make it impossible for me to hide it anymore.
Those are the conversations that contain no words, but speak the
loudest.
The day that I found out that I was, finally pregnant
was an amazing conversation day. I had planned for literally years a
very special way to finally tell Jim when I was expecting. But after
waiting so long and the absolute shock that I was feeling to be
looking at long last at 2 pink lines, I completely forgot my plan and
just climbed back into bed and whispered it in his ear. That was a
beautiful conversation.
For us, after 30 months of TTC conversations, pregnancy
conversations normalized a bit. It consisted of a more serious
discussion of names, during which Archer was scratched off of my list
countless times by Jim. What can I say, I'm decent at the art of
persuasion. We discussed gender expectations, tests that I was
having and the actual nuts and bolts of nursery plans. We would
discuss the baby kicking, and how my due date was coming up, what was
labor and delivery going to be like, was he going to, you know, look.
What if I go into labor at work? What if he is at work? Our
conversations were back to being fun and exciting. It felt good to
be us again after so long.
Labor and delivery came and went and with it our
couples conversations. We still talk obviously, all of the time.
But our topics now are primarily Archer related. A remarkable number
of our conversations focus on bodily fluids. A remarkable number.
Primarily poop, but also pee, vomit, breast milk, boogers, earwax and
more poop. Poop comes up a lot. In detail and in a number of forms.
There is the old, “Is there poop on me?” conversation, which can
also be altered to the “is there poop on you?” conversation when
necessary. There is discussion of the amount of poop, the location
of poop on clothing, the color of poop, the consistency of poop, the
most recent poop... It really is an endless subject in it's
versatility.
There is the “does it sound like he has boogies?”
conversation that generally follows with the “I got the biggest
boogie out of his nose yesterday,” bragging chaser. There is the
“my top producing boob has changed for some reason,” conversation.
I like to throw this one out over dinner because, you know, it's
Archer's food so that makes the topic seem table appropriate. In
the days and weeks after delivery I was a big fan of the “how does
my c-section scar look?” conversation. This one usually comes
accompanied with a flashlight, or my personal favorite, a headlamp
and an intrusive inspection of the area in question. Always fun in
the weeks after a human was forcibly pulled from your body. Jim seems to like the old, “you forgot to put your boob away,”
conversation. That one began about a week into breastfeeding when I
just didn't care anymore if my boob was out. And of course, the
number one most talked about topic of conversation in our post baby
household... “How did he get so handsome?” and the millions of
variations of this observation that we find ourselves pondering on a
daily basis. That is by far my favorite conversation that we
currently have.
Over the years, our conversations have evolved from
silly and flirty, to real substance, life and death and back again.
It is one of the parts of marriage that I love the most. You are not
alone in your experiences. There is someone else there next to you
in the trenches. We may not be discussing great literary works or
solving the world's problems, but our conversations are an accurate
and beautiful gauge of where we are in our lives together. It just
so happens that at this moment, there is a lot of joy... and poop.
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