“I haven’t really thought about it. But you obviously have.” He was sympathetic. “I know how much you’ve always loved Christmas. I tell you what. Why don’t we go and get that tree together and then we’ll go out to lunch at that new place in town? We can make a day of it. Make it special. It will be an Anna and Pete day.”
She felt a rush of nostalgia.
After the twins were born, they’d occasionally taken up the offer of babysitting from Pete’s mother and enjoyed what they’d both affectionately called “Anna and Pete days.” Time when they could be together and focus on themselves, and not the twins. Those days had been precious. They’d gone to the movies in the afternoon and crunched their way through a bucket of popcorn. They’d checked in to a hotel and had sex. Once, they’d checked in to a hotel and simply slept. But most of the time they’d talked and focused on each other.
It seemed like a long time ago.
“It’s not the same. It’s just me, isn’t it? I’m the only one who cares. It wouldn’t bother you if we picked up a Christmas tree from the side of the road. You’re doing it to humor me.”
“I like having a Christmas tree. It’s not important to me how we get that tree, but it’s important to you. And if it’s important to you then it’s important to me.” His tone was steady as he watched her. “But this isn’t really about the tree, is it?”
Her throat thickened. He knew her so well.
“It’s about everything changing. About them leaving home. I’ve dreaded this moment for so long, but I’ve always managed to bury it and tell myself it isn’t happening yet. But tonight I realized it’s already happening.” She felt emotion build. “Maybe the kids haven’t actually left, but in some ways it feels as if they have.”
“They’re growing up. Taking their own journeys.”
“I know. But we’ve always been on the journey with them until now, and letting them go feels—” She swallowed. “It feels hard. It isn’t such a big deal for you, I know. You go to work in the morning and you’re busy, and I bet you don’t really think about us. You have something else to focus on, but the kids—our family—that’s my whole life.”
“I know. You’ve created a wonderful home, and it’s mostly thanks to you that we have two happy and well-adjusted kids who are confident enough to get out there and live life the way they want to live it. Our role now is to support them as they do it.”
“I want to keep them close.”
“I know. But maybe this is the time for you to make some changes, too. It could be exciting. A fresh start.”
It didn’t feel exciting to Anna. It felt close to scary.
“I don’t want a fresh start. And even if I did, what would I do? I’m not qualified to do anything, not like cool Erica who can charge a gazillion dollars just for giving her opinion on something.” She felt a flash of insecurity. “When we worked for the same company I had a great career ahead of me.” And she still remembered the buzz that came from that.
“Until I made you pregnant.” Pete’s voice was soft and she flushed, feeling guilty.
“You didn’t exactly do it on your own. We were both there.” A little too hasty, a little too lost in the moment. A little too young and impulsive to think about sensible, adult things like birth control.
“Do you regret it?”
“Regret having the children?” She was astounded that he would even ask. “They’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that.”
“I do know that. But maybe if we’d had them later, you would have been more established in your career—if you’d kept working, even part-time, maybe it would have been easier to go back.”
“I didn’t want to work part-time. I wanted to be with the twins.” She knew some women went back to work because they couldn’t afford to stay home, and she knew some women worked because they preferred it that way. But she’d chosen to stay home because it had been what she’d wanted. Her choice. In her mind she’d sacrificed nothing by being at home, and gained everything.
She didn’t find childcare boring or tedious; she found it fascinating. Meg’s first steps, the day Daniel managed to read a page of a book—those were all moments she knew she’d treasure forever. And she knew that she was lucky that she’d had that option. Pete had helped it happen, and she didn’t underestimate the impact on him. Yes, there were times when “going to work” had seemed like the easy option compared to sleepless nights with twin babies, but Pete carried the weight of the family finances by himself and that was a big deal. Five years into their marriage he’d lost his job and she’d seen the strain on his features as he’d worked into the night, every night, searching for something new.
“Come here—” Pete reached out his hand to her and she went willingly, settling on his lap as she had as a teenager.
“I’m heavy.” Remembering Meg’s comment about Erica, she tried to stand up but he tugged her back down again.
“You’re not heavy.” He locked his arms around her. “I know you don’t regret having the kids. They’re pretty perfect kids, not that I’d tell them that of course, and why wouldn’t they be with my DNA—ouch!” He winced as she dug her elbow into his ribs.
“They’ve inherited all your bad traits.”
“I don’t have any bad traits.” He pulled her closer. “What can I do to make this easier?”
“I don’t know.” She paused, wondering how to explain. “Remember when you lost your job? For a while you felt as if you no longer had purpose, that you no longer knew what your role was. That’s how I feel. The children don’t need me the way they used to, so I’m basically losing my job.”
He stroked her hair away from her face, his fingers gentle. “You’re not losing your job, Anna. They’re always going to need you.”
“But in a different way. This job—being a mother—has filled my life and now it’s ending and I don’t know how to handle it. It’s all I know. This is what I do. This is what I’m good at. This is what I love. And pretty soon I won’t be needed anymore. And what then? When you lost your job you applied for a new one because you had skills. Unless someone wants me to raise their kids, my skills are no use to anyone.”
“That’s not true.” He locked his arms around her. “They’re not the only thing in your life, Anna. You have other good things.”
He was reminding her that they had a lovely home, and friends and good family. She was hugely grateful for all of that, but it didn’t change the feeling of loss. “The kids are the most important thing.”
There was a pause, and then he let her go and nudged her to stand up. “Right. Well, I suppose you can either see this as the end of something, or you can see it as a beginning.”
She picked up her wineglass from the table. “That sounds like one of those really annoying things they post on social media. Time to stop talking, Pete.”