On our fifth wedding anniversary

On the eve of our fifth wedding anniversary, hubby and I slept in separate rooms. No, it wasn’t because of a fight, although we did have a fight about the fact that we were sleeping in separate rooms, it was because hubby wouldn’t let me leave baby Kaylin to sleep in her room by herself. This coming from a man who one year ago said he didn’t want kids.

The husband I have today won’t let me sleep in our room because he says a burglar could break in and come upstairs and walk past our open door to Kaylin’s room to – wait for it – kidnap her and whisk her away to Thailand. And so I have to sleep with her in her room. At least until he installs double locks on our front door.

It was weird and outrageous and (I’ll admit) kinda sweet and adorable all at the same time, although when he said it to me, the tired mother-of-his-child who hasn’t had a night of unbroken sleep in over three months, at two o’clock in the morning, well, let’s just say it was a lot less endearing.

Of course, I understand where he’s coming from. I can’t imagine what I would do if anything were to happen to Kaylin. A fellow mum once told me she never knew she could love a person so much until her daughter was born. Finally, I know what she means. This panic, however irrational, that I feel every time I imagine something going wrong is normal, right? As is getting all emotional over articles like this 2010 Pulitzer Prize winner (warning: it’s a real heartbreaker).

Hubby likes to tell people that becoming a father hasn’t changed him. He tells me it hasn’t made him more emotional or worried or panicky. That’s in broad daylight. In the middle of the night, when all is dark and still, I guess that’s when the truth comes out. Happy anniversary to us!