I Could Manage Without You, But I Don’t Want To (A Letter To My Husband)

home insemination Kit

There were moments when I felt a twinge of resentment toward you, particularly during your med school days while I was adjusting to life as a stay-at-home mom. You seemed oblivious to the challenges I faced. I was entirely consumed by our child, feeling isolated in my role. Meanwhile, you were out there living your life, pursuing your dreams while I put mine on hold to support yours. We moved around so much that we lived out of suitcases, and at one point, we even found ourselves crammed into a single room in a Staten Island basement. For years, I handled the night feedings alone, providing comfort with my breast while navigating the chaos surrounding us.

Whenever you got a day off, I would whisk our toddler away the moment he stirred so you (and our roommate) could get some extra sleep, though I often did so begrudgingly. I vividly recall marching to our local bakery with our little one in tow, muttering under my breath, “I could do this all by myself.”

With life’s unpredictability, I’ve pondered the truth in that statement. Having spent five years as a stay-at-home mom, I’ve seriously wondered if I could make it alone. Emotionally speaking, I’d be okay, but could I really provide for us? I never thought I’d be questioning my self-sufficiency, but honestly, I could manage just fine. I’m a go-getter, and that’s partly why this whole stay-at-home gig has been such a challenge.

Sure, I’d find a way, though I’d have to iron out some details. You’re the visionary, crafting our life around your dreams. Your role as a doctor is what will ultimately grant us the freedom to enjoy life in places like Costa Rica. Without you, I don’t have a clear picture of what home would look like; for me, home is simply wherever we are together. But let’s be real: I wouldn’t venture into the jungle alone, and New Jersey doesn’t call my name either. Even though my sister lives there and I miss her dearly when a day goes by without a chat, I’ve become accustomed to the sunshine and outdoor fun of Florida.

Now that you’re in residency, working nearly every day of the month and barely catching a breath, I know I can technically handle everything solo. I can pack bags and wrangle kids like a champ. I can clean toilets while playing hide-and-seek. I’ve even mastered the art of turning grocery store runs into cookie adventures, all while preparing meals one-handed. Yet, despite my capabilities, I find myself eagerly counting down the hours until you return—not because I desperately need help with the next diaper change or sippy cup, but because I want you around.

I don’t need you to carry scooters or remind the boys when to find a climbing tree on our family walks. I need you to hold my hand and engage in meaningful conversations. I can put away the dishes and hunt down that elusive shoe solo, but with you, even the silly moments are amplified, and coffee tastes infinitely better.

I can walk the kids to sleep by myself, but when we stroll together, the moon seems more captivating and I’m drawn to admire it longer. I can take our son to karate alone, but when that adorable girl rushes to partner with him, or another boy helps him perfect his jump kicks, I notice the sweetness—but it doesn’t bring a smile like it does when you’re by my side.

I don’t need you to share parenting duties out of necessity; I need you to share in the joy of it. With you, laughter is louder, the cute moments are cuter, and surprisingly, even the tough times feel a tad lighter. Life is simply better when we experience it together.

We don’t just co-parent; we co-experience life. Our shared realities deepen the meaning of everything we encounter. When I spot a stunning sunset and you say, “Look at that!” it validates my perception, making the colors even more vibrant and breathtaking.

I don’t require you for practical reasons alone; I need you to truly know me. You understand my laughter and can read my silence. You embrace my insecurities as much as my strengths, and your comprehension of me provides a sense of validation. We are like two halves of the same whole, discovering more of ourselves through each other.

It’s true—I could survive without you. But what I truly need is so much more than mere survival.