Marthe went to live separately from her family: ‘I love them but I can’t’

Marthe: “Liv was three hours old when the nurse at the hospital asked at midnight: ‘Shall we wake you up at three to feed?’ Well, that seemed a little late to me; wasn’t she supposed to have breakfast like other babies? The nurse turned out to mean 3 a.m. – and handed me a stencil of suggested feeding times.

As a precaution, Liv lay in a heat bed in the children’s ward, after she had been a bit short of breath during the delivery. Feeding on demand, as I had planned, was not an option for a while. Strangely enough, it only now dawned on me that from now on I would never have a second to myself again. That not only feeding, but taking care of my child in general would forever be the staple of my life.

New role

Of course I knew what I was getting into when I got pregnant. As far as that is possible, at least for someone who is becoming a mother for the first time. I prepared for my new role with military precision. Compared consumer surveys for the best stroller and most ergonomic crib mattresses. Weighed breast milk against the bottle, booked a pregnancy yoga class and read everything available in the library. It controlled my life; I was no longer occupied with anything else. Reinoud looked at it and enjoyed it. Me as primeval mother – boy, did she not see that coming.

Me neither, for the record. Where my friends at primary school used to dream of nothing more than getting married and having babies, I was mainly concerned with my dream of becoming a ‘boss’. Owning my own business, independence, that seemed like something to me. My first long relationship broke down because of my lack of a child. He wanted nothing more than a family life, I couldn’t see it. Until I ran into Reinoud – in my own clothing store, of course – and the entire cosmos seemed to scream: this is reproductive material.

And so is Reinoud. The predictability he brought with him, his calm and thoughtfulness – I loved it. For years I had worked around the clock to set up and keep my shop running. By nature I am already busy; always busy with friends, making new plans, more, better, further. Reinoud became my oasis. Ten months after our first date, I was pregnant. Friends and family were happy, but also bewildered.

Demolished

Things went well between Reinoud and me. Predictable, rippling, but harmonious. Great basis for a family, but in retrospect not the best basis for me. Liv was a glowing baby. Slept through in no time, went to the restaurant in the Maxi-Cosi. After my maternity leave, I took her to daycare four days a week.

I was crazy about her, but I desperately needed my business next door, and Reinoud also worked full-time. Beau came as a present. Not very consciously planned, but I also hadn’t had an IUD since I gave birth, so we knew what could happen. That would be welcome, we decided.

Beau was a less accommodating baby. He cried a lot, was often awake at night. The only way to keep it calm was to wear it. Within four months I was wrecked. No parent is happy with such a situation, it’s just hard work. So I did. Reinoud helped where he could. At the same time, I realized more and more that the almost obsessive way I had prepared my motherhood at the time was completely focused on setting up the environment and my knowledge, not on contact with Liv herself or my deepest feelings as a mother-to-be. And Beau, I cycled after it the same way.

For now and forever

I love my children. When I look at the beautiful people they develop into, I almost explode with happiness. That feeling was there from the start. It was just the feeling that now it would forever revolve around someone else killing me. Not out of selfishness, but out of an overwhelming sense of responsibility and an ingrained desire for personal freedom. It is precisely the latter that made my marriage more and more oppressive. The whole family pattern: it just didn’t suit me.

Reinoud showed understanding. “Take one day a week for yourself,” he said. “I’ll take care of things at home.” A dream reaction. I tried it, and it helped a bit, but the other six days of the week I was still stuck in the same regimen. Up at half past six, making breakfast, spreading packed lunches, getting the kids dressed, racing to school, daycare, work. And after work the whole routine again in reverse order. Exhausted every evening on the couch, every summer to a child-friendly campsite. Wealth that a lot of women would envy, I know. So I expressed my ingratitude – because that’s how I saw it – year after year. I adapted to my new role in life, and lost myself.

That doesn’t make you a nice partner, but it doesn’t make you a nice mother either. My fuse was getting shorter and shorter. Reinoud got more and more annoyed when he stood behind the sink in the same spot every night when I got home. While: he was standing behind the counter. Every night. How nice do you want it to be? Still: reading the same books every night, never being able to get out without a pile of children in your bed before seven the next day; I choked on it. I felt completely degenerated as a woman and mother so that I could not ‘just’ enjoy it like other mothers. Isn’t this what parenthood and family life are all about?

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‘What do you want?’

I went into therapy. Alone, and later together with Reinoud. I investigated whether I might have an attachment problem or depression. We did family constellations to see if my dissatisfaction stemmed from my past or the current setup of our family. Reinoud endured it all meekly – just as he was meek in everything. If only I stayed, if only we would do it together, ’til death do us part. Until the psychologist asked: ‘But what do you want?’ I could only think of one thing: to be free. Not without my children, not necessarily without Reinoud, but much more often on my own.

That was the first time I saw Reinoud grim. “So you’re actually happier without us?” he bit me. Justly. I explained that I would probably be a lot happier with them if I had a commensurate amount of time to myself. As long as I didn’t think I could live in a flat somewhere and cut the meat the other half of the time, Reinoud judged. Then we’d better stop.

Those words brought a relief such as I had rarely felt. I had tied the knot myself, but not the balls to cut it myself. Now that Reinoud did it for me, I realized that this was really what I wanted. “It’s not that I don’t love you,” I cried. “I just don’t like our lives.” He didn’t understand any of that. He, I, the children; that was our life right? The nuance escaped him and I couldn’t blame him. Everyone around me apparently lived happily in the same construction.

left

Few parents can probably tell their children that they still love each other very much when they get divorced. It was one big vale of tears. At least with Reinoud and me; Liv and Beau were six and four. Beau shrugged angrily and asked if he could play again, Liv just asked, “Will I see you both?” When she received confirmation of this, she also dived into her Lego again. With the high word out and the gigantic rock in my stomach, I suddenly doubted my decision. Look at them, those lovely three people who were only nice to me. Why did I cry so much about that? Was it actually a really bad idea?

But it wasn’t. Because by the next day, when most of the tears had dried up, I felt a tremendous calm. Reinoud felt that too. “I see you relaxing,” he said, in turn only more emotional. Friends had a pied-à-terre in the city, but lived abroad full-time. I could live there as long as I wanted. The next Monday, after the kids had gone to school, I packed my things and left.

Benefits

Reinoud and I arranged a meeting where Liv and Beau would be with me every Monday and Tuesday and every other weekend. Just under half the time, but that was fine, after all, I wanted to ‘leave’ them. In addition, I desperately needed my time for my business. The kids went along pretty seamlessly. Of course they missed me, in the beginning, and they missed Reinoud when they were with me. But that soon normalized. And when they realized they were getting twice as many toys and going on vacation more often, they saw the benefits too.

They still appear. I now have my own apartment and Reinoud and I are still friends. I realize how much I hurt him. That he put his ego aside for my happiness is something I will always be grateful to him for. I wish him the same happiness, but feel how much he still loves me. Once a week we have dinner together and last year we even went on a winter sport with the four of us. I am separated from our family, but not from these people. That you can also choose for yourself in so much love is a lesson I like to teach my children.”

This article was previously published in Kek Mama.

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