By: Lisa Thompson
My oldest son, Ben, is now five years old, and until recently, that’s roughly how many nights my partner, Mark, and I have stepped out together since his arrival. You could count our date nights on one hand, and still have fingers left over for a wave or a playful smack.
Sure, we’ve had other outings, but they hardly qualify as “dates.” They weren’t the kind of evenings spent at a restaurant with a nice ambiance, where we could share a bottle of wine and enjoy the flicker of candlelight—not powered by electricity, mind you. Instead, we opted for a few hours at a matinee while my mother quietly entertained herself with crossword puzzles in the living room as the kids napped. We made sure to pick only Oscar-nominated films; anything less felt like a waste of precious time.
Then there were the “fancy lunches.” These are not actual dates, just our way of pretending we were out for dinner. We’d visit upscale Italian or French restaurants, where the atmosphere was cozy, the walls adorned with local art, and order multiple courses, sipping wine as if it were evening. The catch? Eventually, we had to leave, blinking into the afternoon sun, only to return home and don our parenting hats once again—cooking dinner and reading bedtime stories, when all we really wanted was to collapse into bed with a pain reliever.
It wasn’t due to any lack of effort that our dating life was so sparse; rather, it was a matter of circumstance. For the first two years of being parents, going out wasn’t even an option. Our son, born prematurely at thirty weeks, returned home after a lengthy three-month NICU stay with a tracheotomy, an oxygen monitor, and a suction machine. Handing those responsibilities over to a teenager next door wasn’t even a thought. During that time, I had my doubts about my own capabilities—how could I, a high school English teacher, be trusted with the task of suctioning phlegm from his throat? But I adapted and learned to meet his needs, and looking back, I’m proud of those rare nights we did manage to escape and the brief afternoons we cobbled together amidst our chaotic household.
It wasn’t until Ben no longer needed the trach that we finally ventured out for our first official date. We entrusted my mom to look after him, relieved that the monitors and medical supplies were no longer a concern. We slipped away to a vineyard, indulging in too much wine under twinkling lights, surrounded by the sounds of crickets and live music.
Then we found out we were expecting twins. Suddenly, even having Grandma watch over three children—including a brother who, while stable, still needed assistance—was a challenge. By that point, Ben didn’t have his wheelchair yet, and only I or a qualified feeding therapist could get him to eat. Instead of dates, Mark and I took many walks around the neighborhood during the brief windows between feedings and diaper changes. While it was refreshing to air out our grievances, it didn’t exactly foster connection.
One evening, while sharing a dinner of peanut butter and jelly, I noticed that the TV light revealed Mark’s beard had turned completely gray. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed without truly looking at him. “Hey,” I nudged him with my foot. “We need to get out of this house. Just the two of us. In real clothes. After dark. For at least two hours.”
Though it wasn’t a groundbreaking epiphany, voicing it aloud made it feel actionable. The kids were older, and I’d become seasoned enough in navigating the special needs world to recognize the importance of prioritizing our relationship. So, I reached out on social media, discreetly asking if anyone could recommend a babysitter familiar with our situation. As luck would have it, I ended up finding the best teacher from our son’s inclusive preschool, named Sarah, whose contact details have become invaluable. Now, she regularly babysits, allowing us to escape into the night.
We’re managing to go out about once a month now, which is a significant improvement over our previous yearly average. Recently, we attended a wedding, which is arguably the best kind of date—free food, drinks, dancing, and cake! It had been a decade since I’d been a bride, yet that night, we danced with more enthusiasm than any other couple on the floor. We’ve earned it.
For those navigating the complexities of parenthood, finding time for each other can be a challenge. But it’s vital to cultivate that connection, even if it means seeking help. If you’re interested in exploring fertility options, consider checking out this resource or this one. For more information about pregnancy and fertility, this is an excellent resource.
In summary, while our dating life has been limited, we’ve learned to prioritize our relationship amidst the chaos of parenting. With the right support and a commitment to each other, we’ve found ways to reconnect and enjoy life together.
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