The Silly Toy That Exposed My Broken Marriage — 'My Heart Knew This Was About Way More Than A Gift'
A 'silly' toy wasn't silly at all — it marked the beginning of the end for my marriage.
Ali Kokab| Unsplash, triloks | Canva It was just a Woody doll, but it marked the beginning of the end of my marriage. Based on the quickness of my breath and stinging eyes, you’d think it was much more than a silly toy from Toy Story. But it did mean more to me and my heart was breaking in two.
After a year and a half at home with my baby boy, I had to go back to work. Perhaps it was hormones, but I was torn apart at the thought. We did everything together. God, I would miss those walks to the park, watching The Wiggles, and dancing to the Beatles with him.
“You just can’t stay home all day doing nothing,” Jason would say. “We need you to go back to work now.” Financially, it made sense. Emotionally, I couldn’t understand it.
Toy Story played on the television in the background as it did most nights before bed. The whole conversation made my stomach hurt every time it came up. What was I going to do? I couldn’t go back to television production. It just wouldn’t work for me as a mother now.
Plus he repeatedly reminded me that I gave up my career to have a baby. What could I possibly do that would pay me what Jason felt I should be making, but would be stress and overtime-free so I could be a present mother as much as I could? “Reach for the sky!”
One study from The National Library of Medicine found that women struggled with both emotional and lingering pregnancy-related physical health problems when they returned to the workplace. A key finding of this study is that more than a quarter of participants (26.5%) reported that their health was “fair” or “poor” during the first month of work reentry.
Further, most participants reported significant mental health challenges at reentry. Over half reported feeling depressed for several days or more in their first month back to work after childbirth, and over two-thirds reported feeling anxious for several days or more.
I went back to work after having my son in the fall of 2003. I begrudgingly took work as an executive assistant for a high-powered CEO of a renowned celebrity brand. The last thing I wanted to do was anything remotely secretarial, but the job paid well — much more than I made working at CNN — and the hours of 6:00 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. were ideal.
It would become the worst job of my life, but, for the time being, it’s what I had to do. So mommy started work while baby began daycare. I felt displaced. Alone. Lost.
Being a full-time mother at home kept me active and busy enough to forget the issues in my marriage.
Yan Krukau | Pexels
When I was a full-time mother, it was easier to pretend that I was happy, even though the control was overwhelming. Now that I was in what became a ferociously stressful and abusive job, everything in my life suddenly suffocated me. Being away from the baby gave me time to remember that I was miserable at home and work was no breath of fresh air. I had lost my identity both as a young producer and a new mother.
I mourned my freedom and pined for the days I spent alone with my child. With each passing day, my nerves and mental health chipped away at my spirit.
During the workday, I often walked across the pedestrian bridge to the Century City Mall, where I would spend my lunch hours mindlessly overspending as a skewed coping mechanism. I especially enjoyed my lunch hours at Christmastime, shopping for the holidays surrounded by the sounds and smells of the season and wandering around the festive outdoor mall.
Silvana Carlos | Unsplash
On one lost day, I checked out a toy store to see if there was anything small I wanted to add to the baby’s gifts. As soon as I walked in, I saw him.
Smiling goofily in all his cowboy glory. It was a prize Woody doll; they had been impossible to find. We already bought the Buzz Lightyear, but Woody was sold out everywhere. His likeness was perfection, right down to the pull string feature. He was there waiting for me.
I lit up and my heart felt full. I was so excited and happy to find this special gift and couldn’t wait for my son to open it up under the tree on Christmas morning. How cool it would be for him to have the set of Woody and Buzz.
It was a rare occasion since starting my new job that I felt a rush of joy.
“You’ll never guess what I found today!” Jason looked at me blankly as I quickly peeked the doll out secretly from my shopping bag.
“No,” he said flatly.
“What?” My heart skipped a beat.
“No, you aren’t giving that to him for Christmas. He has too many gifts already. Are you crazy?”
I couldn’t breathe. “But it’s Woody!”
“Absolutely not. You’re going to spoil him.”
“Please! I was so excited to find it. He’ll be perfect along with Buzz.”
“That’s right,” Jason said. “He is already getting Buzz. He doesn’t need another one.”
“But…”
“I said no. Put it away for his birthday.”
I didn’t want to wait for May. I wanted to give him my gift for Christmas. Why was Jason being so difficult? Why was he stomping on my happiness about this?
Photo from Author
At that moment, I felt hatred for my husband, and for my life. I had no control of anything and just wanted this one little piece of joy.
Deep down I knew it was silly. That people in the world had real problems. That I was getting weepy over a silly doll; a gift I wasn’t allowed to give my son, even though he had more than enough toys coming his way. Silly or not, I was numb.
The honeymoon of being a stay-at-home mother was diminishing and the problems that had been present in my marriage before the baby were rushing back with a vengeance. Depression hung over me like an ill-fated black cloud. The blissful ignorance of new motherhood was a feeling I cherished, but it was waning.
Researchers found several factors in the division of household labor leading to decreased satisfaction in the relationship with their partner/father of their child, including parenting tasks, financial decisions, and intimacy. Complicating this shift in relationship dynamics, women must also contend with a change in personal identity when they become mothers, mainly as they try to navigate the pressure of ‘good’ motherhood.
Motherhood is a demanding long-term role characterized by having someone almost entirely dependent on you. As these changes occur, mothers experience a temporary loss of their sense of self, which may include their self as a partner, due to the level and urgency of newborn needs, which are often placed above their own and their partner’s needs.
His bright blonde hair glistened in the winter morning sun. Rays of light filtered through the large front windows in front of the lovingly decorated Christmas tree. The house smelled of coffee and cinnamon, and traditional Christmas music filled the air as the three of us sat on the floor surrounded by boxes, paper, bows, and a mischievous cat. Naturally, the baby was more drawn to the boxes and paper and bows than anything else, but this year he was bigger and could enjoy the excitement of the morning.
I wrapped my fingers around my champagne glass and sipped on my mimosa quietly. I had tried changing Jason’s mind several times and hoped he would come around at the last minute if only to make me happy. But he didn’t. If anything, like a child, the more I begged, the more definite he was. We would not be giving Woody as a gift to our son.
My heart knew that this was about more than a gift. I was broken and so was my marriage.
I was not at home anymore playing house as a new mother. I was balancing home and work and baby and a demanding husband, who — as it turned out — was dealing with his demons.
Even still. It was just a damn Woody doll. Based on the quickness of my breath and stinging eyes, you’d think it was much more than a silly toy from Toy Story. But it did mean more to me. It may have been just a damn Woody doll, but my heart was breaking in two.
What had begun as a fairytale was ending in disaster, and it had nothing to do with a toy or a child. One of us was disappearing deeper into the pits of depression while the other was coming to terms with his sexual identity. Our whole lives, our decisions, our desires, the consequences were gearing up to implode, destroying everything we had and everything we knew.
Motherhood was a joy, but my marriage was broken. Not just broken, but shattered into a million pieces. And all that remains of it today is that Woody doll. Lovingly stored in a plastic storage bin in my garage.
KiKi Walter is a writer, editor, and memoirist originally from the Adirondacks, now based in Orange County, CA. She publishes three acclaimed Medium publications, launched The Memoirist Quarterly print journal, co-hosts The Unfocused Writer podcast, and her work has been featured in Hello Giggles, BlogHer, and more.