I Believe…

I believe in so many things. I believe in fairy tales. I believe in magic. I believe in good night kisses. I believe in the quiet comfort one feels when looking into the eyes of their soul mate… and, I believe in love at first sight.

I sit here, at my computer, thinking of my husband and the past 16 years we have spent together as husband and wife. I sit here, reflecting, remembering and softly smiling.

I remember how we started. We were so young. We were still kids. I was only eighteen when we first met. He was not much older at twenty-one. The deck seemed to be stacked against us. My family had someone else in mind for me. His family wasn’t able to look at him as a young man old enough and able to make his own decisions. Yes, we had many mountains to climb, but we also had such a sense of our love being right, that we were able to climb those mountains hand in hand. And… we did.

At ages twenty and twenty-three we were married. It wasn’t a lavish wedding, but to us, it was perfect. Our families and closest friends were there. Small, intimate, sweet, unpretentious are all great adjectives to describe that special day. I walked down the aisle alone. My parents had both died a few years before and I knew not one other person even came close to filling their places in my heart. Therefore, I walked alone. Well it appeared I was alone. In my heart, I knew they were both there beside me, leading me to the man of my dreams. The man I was born for.

Ten years flew by. Ten years, two children and three homes in different places. I stayed home with our children and tried to be the very best Mom and wife I possibly could. We had out bumps and bruises along the way. Our oldest was born with some health problems, but again… together we overcame them. My husbands career was flourishing at amazing speed. He doubled his income in a matter of years. He worked long, long hours. Many weeks he was gone for sixty hours. Six to seven days a week he would spend in his office. He was “doing it for the family.” He would say. In a way I knew he was. We needed the money that came with the overtime. Eventually as our daughters grew older I too found a job I loved.

For the first time in a very long time I was Jennifer instead of “Mom” or Ian’s wife. I had an identity all my own. I felt freedom and I loved it, and I wanted more. I craved it with every fiber of my being. I never once stopped loving my family.. My husband, our daughters were still incredibly precious to me. It’s just that for the first time ever in my life I was starting to find out who I was, and I liked me.

My need for the freedom to find myself, and my husband need to pursue a career track he loved, clashed. We grew apart. We hurt each other. We started to hate each other. We came as close to divorce as two people could get without actually separating.

Inside my heart was not just breaking, but bleeding. I still loved him so much. I just lost the passionate desire. The newness was long gone. Everything was predictable, even boring at times, but yet, I still loved him.

I was terrified. I thought that I was going to have to give up my new-found self if we stayed together. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t go back to being only a Mom and a wife, no matter how much I loved those roles. I had to have more in my life. I had to have a part that wasn’t based on someone else. My husband didn’t understand that and I think that hurt most of all. He was content with me being there when he came home from work. He liked having the clean house, the well behaved children, dinner on the table every night. He knew I wasn’t happy, but wasn’t sure what to do about it. And… he was terrified that if I kept going in the direction I was heading, I would walk out and he would lose his best friend.

Neither one of us knew how to find that balance. We both wanted to other to be happy. We both wanted our family, our best friend and the security we had. We both knew that things would never be the same again, ever.

Because of this Ian worked longer and longer hours. His job because a place of solace almost. It was an escape from the unhappiness he found when he went home. I pulled further and further away because he was working so much. We no longer knew each other. We fought, constantly. We hurt, constantly. Neither one of us knew how to make it better.

For the next several years we existed like this. The daily routine is what we had in common. The needs of our children were our focus and our only common focus. Making love was, well it wasn’t. We had sex when Ian initiated it.. Sometimes. We had sex when I knew I couldn’t say no again. It was something I endured and something he did not only for a physical release, but out of hope that we might find some spark again. We didn’t.

My desire to become Jennifer again was fulfilled. I found myself, and even better, I loved myself. I was able to combine motherhood and being Jennifer for the first time ever, and it felt great. Now.. I just needed to see if I could combine being a wife to the equation.

Ian got yet another promotion, but it meant he could no longer charge overtime. We didn’t know how we were going to be able to make it. It would be a drastic change financially. There was also a glimmer of hope in my soul. Ian would be home now. He would be home every weekend. He would walk in the door at 5:30pm every night. I would actually have my husband back. No longer would I feel like a single parent with a male roommate that I also happened to share a bed with. I was excited and yet, I was scared. What if we didn’t find our way back to each other? What if I really didn’t still love him? What if he didn’t love me?

I knew I was ready. I had completed my journey and I felt whole, well mostly whole. I couldn’t feel totally whole until I had my soul mate back. Oh how I prayed that Ian was still my soul mate.

I vowed to really try. I made a promise to myself and to God. I would put my family first every night. Instead of drawing into myself and sitting in front of the computer for hours on end, I would sit with my family and watch TV. I would make dinner more often and make a point of sitting down at the table with my family. I would talk to them, and encourage them to talk to me.

It worked. There was less tension. Our children were happier. Ian and I were happier. We rarely fought. He knew that I needed to keep my own identity, and that didn’t mean that I didn’t want to be his wife or mother to our daughters. It merely meant that I didn’t want to lose myself in their lives anymore. When people looked at me, I wanted them to see me first and my family second. To some that may seem selfish. But to me.. It wasn’t selfish..it was self preservation. I wondered how anyone could love me, or how I could even love myself when I didn’t know who I was. I had no longer existed. Jennifer only lived for her children and her husband. I had to find Jennifer again, so I could be an even better mother and wife and friend. Women...mothers...give so much of themselves to their families. Moms who stay home give everything to their families. All I wanted was a small part of me back. Just a small part, so that I didn’t give all of me away. I knew that if I went back to giving all of me away, soon, there wouldn’t be anything left to give.

Yes, our family was back together. Things were smooth sailing. Still, Ian and I didn’t have the closeness we wanted. There was still so much anger, so much pain. We had come so far, but not nearly far enough. It wouldn’t have taken much to turn us around so we were heading away from each other again.

One night we went to bed, and Ian reached for me. Like a thousand other times I turned him away. I didn’t even know why I was rejecting him. It was almost a habit. A habit that hurt me as badly as it did him. I just couldn’t be that physically intimate with someone I wasn’t emotionally intimate with. It felt so cheap, so dirty, so wrong.

He got mad. I cried silently. Then I remembered something I had forgotten. When a problem becomes so large, so heavy you can no longer carry it, give it to God. I laid there, silently crying and praying. I told God that I had done everything I could think of to make things right. I asked God if he still wanted Ian and I to be together...or were we supposed to go in different directions? I begged God to please show me what he wanted. I begged him to help me make Ian understand why I drifted from him.

What happened next still truly amazes me. As I was laying there, praying, pouring my fears out to God, Ian reached out to me one last time and asked one simple question.

“Jen? Did you pull away from me because I wasn’t there for you emotionally, because I was working so much?”

He got it. I started crying earnestly then. God heard me. God wanted us together. Ian understood. We were going to be OK.

That was just the beginning of weeks of work. Long, long talks. Loud, loud fights, and lots of tears. We had to forgive each other for all of the pain we inflicted...knowingly inflicted on each other.

But we did it.

Now here I sit, sipping my coffee, looking out the window. The house is beginning to take on the scent of the turkey that is roasting in the oven. My girls are sitting in front of the TV eating cinnamon rolls and watching the parades. My thoughts once again take me back...but not so far back. I remember last night and his touch…….

We spent the evening making bread stuffing with our girls. It was a family tradition we did each Thanksgiving Eve. The girls would tear bread, cut butter and mushrooms. I would dice celery and Ian would dice the onions. Then together we would mix everything, tasting, adding spices as needed. Finally when everyone agreed it was just right we would place the stuffing in a large bowl and put it in the frig until morning.

Then the girls got ready for bed. Our youngest did everything she could possibly think of to stall…. Just like she did every night. At long last they were in bed. The dogs were fed. The cat was fed. The fish and birds were fed. The long day was at a close.

I walked into the bathroom and drew myself a relaxing bubble bath. Reaching for the box of matches, I struck one, lighting it instantly. Four candles were lit. Then I walked into the kitchen and filled a glass with wine. I walked back to the bathroom, removed my clothes, grabbed my book and sank down into the steamy water and sighed. God it felt good.

I don’t know how long I sat there. I must have read three or four chapters. My wine was long gone and my bathwater had grown cool. After pulling the stopper from the drain I stepped out of the tub and quickly dried myself. I stepped in to a pair of cotton panties and slipped on a flannel shirt. My hair was dry. I had pulled it back before getting into the bath. So all I needed to do was brush through it a few times. Yawning, I turned off the bathroom light and crawled into bed.

Ian’s breathing was steady, even. Thinking he was fast asleep I pulled the blankets up to my chin and closed my eyes.

My eyes popped open as I cursed. “Shit! Your hand is cold! I thought you were asleep.” Ian had reached over and slipped his hand under my shirt and was stroking my back.

“I was, until you made so much noise in the bathroom that you woke me up.” He answered.

Slowly, softly Ian’s hand moved from my back to my breast. Cupping, lifting, gently squeezing. For a fleeting moment I thought of turning him away. Old habits die hard. No. I wasn’t going to turn him away. Not this time. Not after we had worked so hard and come so far. I wanted my husband to love me. I wanted to love him.

I turned to Ian. Our lips met. Our kisses were different than they were when we first met. The newness was gone. There wasn’t an instant spark. Instead, there was a sweet sense of comfort. A familiar warmth and an incredible awareness of our past, of our present, and yes, of our future.

“I love you Jennifer.” He whispered as his fingers deftly unbuttoned my shirt.

“I love you too.”

When the cool air met my warm skin, my nipples hardened. Ian bend his head, lowering his mouth to my breast. His hand skimmed across the aching surface of my left breast as his mouth soothed the right. My fingers clenched and tangled his hair. My back arched, as I offered myself to him fully.

With the blink of an eye our remaining clothes were removed and I was pulled on top of him. I laid my palms on his chest as I looked into his eyes. Teasingly I smiled and ground myself onto him.

“You’re evil.” He moaned.

“I know.” I whispered.

Pushing against his chest, I slid down his body until the throbbing heat of him was against my lips. I kissed, and licked. My hands stroked and my tongue swirled. I felt my husbands hand in my hair, pushing my mouth firmly down on him. His hips moved in rhythm with me. His sighs of pleasure urging me on.

“Jen, Jen, stop.” Ian reached for me. Half sitting, half lying against a profusion of pillows he guided me to his lap. Little by little I lowered myself onto him. The feeling of my husband filling my very soul was more than I could take and the tears began. Not tears of pain, or tears of sadness, but tears of overwhelming joy and happiness.

My arms wrapped around his neck. My fingers entwining in his hair. My face buried in his shoulder. He kissed and nibbled my neck and shoulders as we moved together towards heaven and the magical release that two people who are truly meant to be together find.

As our passions built we pulled slightly apart. Gazing into each others eyes, words were not needed. We spoke volumes to each other. Then it came, that incredible moment when nothing else exists but each other. My head went back. My fingers dug into his shoulders. His hands squeezed my breasts, bringing a pleasurable pain. Our bodies soared, our spirits became one and our love for each other grew even stronger.

We fell asleep in each others arms, happy, peaceful and very much in love.

Yes I believe in many things. I believe in Saturday morning cartoons and pancakes on Sunday. I believe in never giving up your dreams, yourself or those you love. I believe in marriage, white picket fences, two kids and a dog. And…. I believe in happily ever after.

Do you?

~Jennifer~

11/4/02