The Cup by the Couch

It was probably six in the evening when I noticed her coffee was barely touched.

I had poured it that morning. Around eight.

I remembered asking Sukari while I was brewing it, “Do you want coffee?” I wanted to make sure I made enough for both of us.

Now, hours later, there it was.

My first thought was that I had made it wrong. I drink my coffee black and strong. She has her special creamer. Maybe the coffee was too strong. Maybe I hadn’t put enough creamer in it. Or maybe too much.

So I asked.

“I didn’t have time to get to it.”

That made me raise an eyebrow.

Our son, David III, was about a month and a half old. Sukari had delivered him by scheduled C-section because of prior uterine surgery for adenomyosis and endometriosis. I knew I needed to be there to lighten the load during those first few months while her body physically healed.

But finishing a cup of coffee? That had never been on my radar.

I left it alone that evening.

Then a few more days passed, and I started noticing a pattern. Full cups of coffee sitting in different places. One time, she asked me to warm hers up. I did. Hours later, it was still in the same spot on the table next to the couch where she sits.

That’s when I went to my usual approach: jokes.

We didn’t need to buy more creamer if she was just going to waste it, I teased.

The jokes didn’t change anything. The coffee still sat there.

Eventually, she told me she’d seen other new moms talking about the same thing online. She felt overwhelmed. Unsettled. Even when there was a chance to sit down, she felt like she needed to be doing something or holding our son.

I’ll be honest: I laughed a little at first. I wondered whether this was really a thing.

I’m skeptical. That’s pretty much my default setting.

Having David has given both of us a crash course in time management. We’re learning how to spend whatever free time we get.

Sometimes, I choose to rest and recover. Other times, I use that time to do things around the house that need to be done. I still usually find a chance to eat or have my coffee.

From what I was seeing, Sukari seemed to put the things that needed doing around the house ahead of her own rest and recovery almost every time.

We have different levels of chill, as I like to put it. But the more I took this seriously, the more I noticed that what felt like a chance to pause to me didn’t seem to feel that way to her. Even when there was time, she had already told me how hard it was to settle into a break.

About a week after I started realizing this was a thing, I remember her rushing over to what we call the “bottle bar.” She was heading over to put the bottles in the washer and refill the bottle maker with water and formula.

I already had David in my arms.

So I put the bottles in the washer and refilled the bottle maker, still holding him.

“Drink your coffee,” I told her.

That became my way of saying, I’ve got this. Take a break. On purpose.

I tried to back it up by doing what needed doing, including making the bed and handling laundry. These were shared responsibilities already. I wasn’t the best at everything she asked me to do, but I did my best.

The difference was that I was paying attention to something I hadn’t understood before. I could pour her coffee in the morning and still miss that she wasn’t getting a chance to drink it.

We’re getting better at it. It’s still a struggle.

That’s where Grounds for a Break starts. With a cup of coffee I thought I’d made wrong, and a conversation that made me look a little closer at how our days were going.

I want to write about the ongoing effort of showing up for my wife while we learn how to be parents. The things I notice late. The things I try. The days we manage a little better and the days we don’t.

“Drink your coffee” is a small thing to say. I’m working on making sure I do my part so she can.