be beside me somewhere: partnership and parenting (on this Father's Day in NZ)
- Ellie McBroom
- Sep 3, 2023
- 8 min read
Updated: Sep 5, 2023
It’s Father’s Day in New Zealand. This has stirred up a whole tangle of amusing questions in our minds: -> Should we celebrate today, or wait for the US holiday, or why not both? This also happens on our birthdays. We'll have our birthday festivities here, but thanks to the time zones, all the warm wishes from our loved ones back home come pouring in the next day. So, we've made the wise choice to embrace the best of both worlds - two birthdays, two Father's and Mother's days, etc. And on that note, you’re finding me here on the blog, spending a bit of time talking about the more incredible thing in my life – my partnership with this man.
Our journey to New Zealand, and really our entire partnership, are grounded in the early days of our relationship. Back in my early 20’s, I was always self-conscious in telling people that Charlie and I met in high school (especially when coupled with the fact that we hailed from Kentucky). I carried some preconceived notion that folks hearing this information would pigeonhole me and assume I was someone who would settle down and fail to venture far beyond my comfort zone.
And it’s funny – throughout the many years that we were dating, friends and family gave me (well-deserved) unending grief about my tendency to break up with Charlie and proclaim that we were “just friends.” (Clearly with benefits though, as numbered by the make-out sessions in the stacks of the Rhodes College library and/ or the cozy corners of the Williford common room, Bellingrath Chapel, and our East Village lofted-bed dorm room.) Some of my impulsiveness and flippancy at the time stemmed from my immaturity, but much of it ran deeper – I had always dreamt of globe-trotting in my 20s and "exploring the world," and I was petrified that settling down with my "high school sweetheart" would stifle my adventurous spirit.
However, I came to my senses near the end of college when Charlie finally held the line and broke up with me, and I nearly lost him. Charlie had always been enthusiastic about the prospect of living anywhere in the US, or even abroad. It dawned on me that my hesitations were based on a false dichotomy – a binary narrative that pitted "settling down and marrying" against "remaining single and exploring the world," a choice that didn't truly exist.
Thankfully, I came to my senses and recognized the false constraints, and at the age of 23 we tied the knot. It wasn't the path I had initially envisioned for myself, but it turned out to be the best decision of my life. Moreover, there was something providential about the timing.
Fast forward a few years, and we found ourselves living in Baltimore. I sat in a courtyard with my colleague and close friend, Azure, reflecting on the early challenges in our marriage – the loss of Charlie's father during our senior year of college, my parents' divorce (and unbeknownst to me, my mother's looming Alzheimer's diagnosis). I confided in Azure about my reluctance to settle down, but she shared a perspective that had deep truth and resonance with me: “Yes, this isn’t what you imagined for your life, but maybe there was something providential in God’s timing, that you all had to experience so much at such a young age….”
Skipping ahead a few more years, Charlie and I were back in Kentucky. We were both 27 and had taken on the responsibility of caring for my mother and my brother. My commitment to staying in my desired field international development, alongside my pursuit of a Master's degree at UK, had me stretched thin. During one autumn, as I embarked on an internship at the State Department in DC, Charlie assumed responsibility for the home front in Kentucky. During those two and a half months I was away, he attended to my Mom and brother's needs. His dedication extended to even the smallest of details, and he maintained an unwavering and patient watch over Mom as she grappled with the early stages of her memory decline. This act of love and support meant the world to me, as it allowed me to continue my career growth, even during a time that demanded so much from me on a personal level.
Zoom ahead five years from that point, and we are truly in the thick of it. As mentioned previously, I
had once aspired to live abroad, not marry until 30, and postpone having kids until my mid-30s. Yet, with my mother's diagnosis and more limited work opportunities in Kentucky, we decided to start our family while we were in a natural holding pattern. One evening, I was at home, trying to whip up a quick meal or dessert when a bag of flour tumped off the kitchen counter, creating a huge, powdery mess on the floor. I was wound up, carrying the weight of caregiving and work, manifesting itself as tension in my neck and shoulders. I was on the verge of tears when Charlie came into the kitchen, surveyed the scene, and exclaimed, "Wow, boys, look! It's indoor snow!" The boys squealed with delight, and Charlie had magically turned a moment of potential breakdown completely around.
Now, fast forward to February 2021. It had been a staggering 381 days since I had last seen my mother in person. She was among the first to receive the Covid vaccine, but I still awaited my turn. Despite that, I received special permission to bring her out of the nursing home for a day. We embarked on a nine-hour journey, kids in tow, to Kentucky because I was desperate to see her. The night before our outing, a terrible ice storm hit, rendering the roads treacherous. I received countless calls from concerned friends and family, questioning the wisdom of our plan. It was as though I had any other options. My stress levels were about to boil over when I received another call from the nursing home, a well-intentioned stranger unaware of the distance we had traveled. She tried to dissuade me, citing logistical challenges like lifting my mom into the car. "She's a double-assist now," she emphasized, "and our staff cannot legally help you. They could get injured."
I was on the verge of a meltdown, but Charlie, always a pillar of strength, reassured me that we could proceed with the plan, that we'd make it work. When we arrived at the nursing home and they wheeled my mom out, bundled up in blankets, Charlie effortlessly lifted her and placed her in the car, hardly flinching. The day unfolded seamlessly. My mother's eyes widened with recognition, especially at the sight of her friend Barb. It was a moment of immense importance, one of the most profound moments of my life.
That evening, in the kitchen of our Airbnb, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and expressed to Charlie how important it had been to me.
“I can’t believe you lifted her,” I told him, as I gingerly touched his back. I could see him grimacing now. “Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Yes,” he told me, “but it’ll be ok.”
“Thank you, for lifting her. I could not have done this without you.” I praised, as tears began welling up in my eyes.
Charlie, without missing a beat, replied “I just think, of how she carried our boys as babies, for hours on end when we were so tired and weary. It was the least I could do.”
Jumping ahead to February of 2022 - and Mom’s condition continued to deteriorate, and it became evident that she was in her final stages of life. I desperately wanted to be with her during her last days, but I knew that orchestrating such a move would be a logistical challenge. Nevertheless, I forged a plan: I booked multiple long-stay Airbnbs in Lexington, took a leave of absence from work, and arranged for home healthcare to make the move home possible. As the days drew nearer for me to travel back, the weight of the unknowns began to press on me. It wasn't just the logistics that overwhelmed me – setting everything in place and managing the finances were daunting enough. But there were so many uncertainties. How long would I need to stay in Lexington? What would sitting with my Mom in her final days ask of me? Did I have the strength required? What if something went wrong?
I vividly recall sitting on our kitchen counter, my knees pulled up to my chest, trying to articulate all this to Charlie, feeling my anxiety coursing through me. I will never forget how he gently held me in his arms, held his hands up to my face and assured me that while he knew it would be incomprehensibly hard, that he had confidence that I had the strength to navigate it, because he’d seen me do so over the past decade. “I know it is a difficult road to bear, but I know you will find the strength you need, as you need it, along the way.”
And here we are – nearly to our present day (although not quite). Mom has left us; it is January of 2023. Our dream of moving abroad was still aflame, and this felt like the right time to seize the opportunity. But I had creeping concerns that if and when the moment arrived, we might back out due to how difficult moving would be, as I often undervalue to comforts of settling in. (I’d even go so far as to tease Charlie during his tenure at his company in DC, as he kept growing professionally and garnering promotions that he needed to idle out a bit, and kick it more into neutral gear, so that he wouldn’t get promoted so high up that he wouldn’t want to move abroad.)
As we reached this juncture, I wondered if we'd follow through or if it would prove too challenging. Yet, Charlie, steadfast as ever and always up for my wildest schemes, understood the significance of fulfilling this deferred dream for me and our family. So, he applied for jobs in New Zealand, and here we aren’t, so quickly – continuing to buck the limiting narratives I’d feared would bind me in my 20’s, defying the odds, accomplishing incredibly demanding feats, and raising three amazing children together along the way.
Perhaps it might seem somewhat self-indulgent, given that this entry is meant to celebrate Father's
Day, to instead focus on my partnership with Charlie, and center this post on just how incredibly and profoundly remarkable this man is. I could have regaled you with stories of the countless elaborate craft projects he's undertaken with the kids (Unicorse puppets! A cardboard Bumblebee Transformer! A Mandalorian helmet crafted from duct tape!). I could have recounted travels he’s had with the boys or how he held down the fort when I pursued an additional career opportunity – deploying to the Afghan refugee response in Texas (for two weeks – at the start of a school year)! Or, even better, I could have delved into the intricate world-building and lore of the "three-toed giants" bedtime fantasy stories he spins for the kids most nights. There’s deep cuts, an endless treasure trove of material to illustrate what an exceptional dad he is, that I haven’t even begun to delve into.
Yet, as I contemplate who Charlie is as a father, and how he has been a dad across various seasons of our lives since becoming parents, so much of this journey seems interwoven with the broader narrative. In many novels, articles, and stories, it's often suggested that as children come into the world, partnerships shift their focus, and sustaining them is relegated to the back burner. The prevailing notion is that there's some implicit/ unspoken requirement that your love for your children becomes all-encompassing in a way that supersedes (and even diminishes or dampens) everything else. It's believed that your lives and roles realign to center on parenthood. There's some truth in that – your heart undeniably expands, and your children's needs take precedence. But what fills me with appreciation is that while our lives and identities are unquestionably shaped by our kids, I can still discern how our children’s lives are growing out of the goodness and essence of our partnership. And while our lives (and identities) are defined, in part, by our kids, that I can still find mine and Charlie’s partnership as both the foundation and arch to our family’s story. I am grateful to see him as my ultimate love, and witness how our children are becoming and growing—both emerging from and flourishing within—our extraordinary love story.
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