And things we're all too young to know

My oldest friend Gina, whom I've known since kindergarten, got married on Saturday. I was a member of the wedding party, and as I watched her walk down the aisle with her dad, tears sprang into my eyes, because she looked so beautiful in her dress, and her father so proud to have her on his arm. And when she met her husband-to-be at the altar, the soft way he looked at her made me cry some more. They've been together about ten years, but I truly believe that a couple's wedding day is the beginning of a whole new life. I am so excited for them to begin this journey.

Of course I got to thinking about my own marriage, which turns five years old in May.

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In the year following our wedding, I listened to a handful of husbands and wives in Blogland talk about how difficult marriage can be, and it's not that I didn't believe them, but...I didn't believe them. At least, it didn't seem applicable to us. Luke and I dated for five years before we tied the knot and lived together months before, and in those years and months we experienced a lot of drama over a Mary Poppins carpetbag full of issues: relating to each other physically and emotionally, establishing our relationship as an independent unit, setting priorities for the future. We trudged through painful conversations about sex and child-rearing and religion. We (eventually) learned to celebrate the best and accept the worst in ourselves and each other, and to aim to improve where we could. And once we (finally) got engaged, we embraced the sentiment of marriage with our whole hearts, banishing the word "divorce" from our vocabulary. "Always remember what brought you here," our pastor told us over burgers and fries at Joe's Crab Shack, two months before the wedding, and we promised to do just that.

In my opinion, the most difficult part was the getting there. Now that we weren't laboring over our intentions as a couple, now that we knew the general shape of our life path, there would be no stopping us.

It was with this unwavering mindset that we said "I do."

 

On our wedding day, May 12, 2006. How lovely we were, and utterly clueless, too.

Today, our marriage is almost equal the length of our courtship, but the highs and lows on our marital grid have delivered much stronger punches. We began with two full-time jobs, one sweet freelance gig, and only a teeny one-bedroom apartment to maintain, with no debt save for my college loans, and flexibility up the wazoo. We were making plans to move back to Chicago, travel across the world, add to our family, and phase me out of the workforce to fulfill my dream of being a stay-at-home mom.

It's easy to be idealistic when you have money in the bank and there is nobody to tend to but yourselves. It's easy to move into the future when everything is going according to plan.

By our first anniversary, I was pregnant with Kara, and we quickly learned that our neat and tidy life map simply wasn't sustainable. Luke didn't bring in enough money at his non-profit for me to stay home, but my job could support all three of us, so the day after his thirty-fourth birthday he bid farewell to office life and I prepared to wear the clothes of a working mother. I went through a lot of ugly feelings then: sadness over anticipated time lost with my daughter and any future children we would have, resentment over taking on a role I didn't want, fear of the unknown, and just plain anger because goddammit, I did not sign up for this.

Then, not six months after my c-section, I was pregnant with Nathan. Oh my goodness, what a blessing, and whoa, motherfucker, what have we gotten ourselves into.

So we whittled away the remainder of our nest egg preparing for our second life detour. Purchased a house to make room for another baby, investing in a down payment and closing fees and new carpet and paint. Bought a second set of nursery furniture, a different type of breast pump, more baby clothes. Accepted federal stimulus money we will have to repay in half-grand increments over the next fifteen years to afford a 2003 Outlander plagued with nail polish stains and a questionable smell that lingers almost two years after the sale. To offset the loss of all that cash, we pieced together a maternity leave comprising paid FMLA time from my company and ten vacation days, eight weeks total, even though I'd be recovering from another c-section, even though I'd be tangled up with an infant and a toddler. We anticipated the hospital bill that was sure to come from having an HSA baby at the start of the year instead of the end and were not disappointed.

Then Nathan was born, and we were over-the-moon happy to welcome him into our lives, and yet almost as frustrated, learning to deal with a newborn that was so drastically different from our first: he spit up all the time, cried for hours a day, and was overall hard to console until he was old enough to crawl. My stomach collapsed into itself from all the baby-making and lack of exercise, and it totally sucked the joy out of getting dressed for almost a year, which of course had an effect on my self-esteem, which doesn't exactly help you put your best foot forward in your most intimate relationship. We couldn't figure out an after-work routine that got the kids fed, bathed, and story-timed AND our kitchen cleaned before 10 p.m. until embarrassingly recently. Sometimes I still can't manage to put in a full day at work and still make it home for dinner.

A lot's happened in the last five years that's called us to re-examine our life plans and reshape our priorities. We are still trudging through painful conversations.

But we are making it.

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As husband and wife, Luke and I wear many hats. Sometimes it takes all of our energy to be parents and housekeepers and worker bees, and sometimes they are so in sync that we find 30 minutes in the day to spend as lovers. We don't have "Date Night" enough. Sometimes conversation is like a song and sometimes it just takes one misplaced sigh to throw the entire day off-track. Sometimes we huddle close in bed and sometimes our backs are turned. We apologize a lot, almost as often as we say "I love you." There are times when the cheap shot wins out over being the bigger person. We don't always make the effort to understand.

We have born witness to the most physically humbling moments of our lives. From his end, Luke has seen the slicing of my abdomen, the production of milk from my breasts, and postpartum blood in my underwear. There were entire months when my fingers resembled sausages, my legs tree trunks, my face a balloon. He's privy to birth marks and blackheads and cellulite and more loose skin than even Buffalo Bill would know what to do with. It's a miracle he found me attractive enough to conceive two children.

Money has played a bigger force in our marriage than I ever thought possible. We started out practically debt free, and now there are times when we're robbing Peter to pay Paul. To pull or not to pull out of my 401(k)? Do we have enough life insurance? How can we increase our income in a way that keeps our family arrangement and sanity intact? Will it always feel like we're catching up? When can we finally start getting ahead? And the kicker is that in this economy, we're actually doing well.

Sometimes it's hard to live up to our promises from 2006 and remember what brought us here. It is an active choice to be made every day. Many times we make the wrong choice.

But we are making it. Despite the hard times, somehow, we thrive.

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On the series finale of Scrubs (the Zach Braff finale, not the clunky Med School spin-off), they play a song near the end called, "The Book of Love." The Scrubs version is sung by Peter Gabriel, but at the time we downloaded it the only available file was the original, by The Magnetic Fields. Anyway, it's been years since I posted lyrics in an entry - so cheesy - but I can't help myself this time, because the words so simply capture the monotony of love, as well as the joy.

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures
And instructions for dancing but

I...
I love it when you read to me and
You...
You can read me anything

The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb but

I...
I love it when you sing to me and
You...
You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know but

I...
I love it when you give me things and
You...
You ought to give me wedding rings
I...
I love it when you give me things and
You...
You ought to give me wedding rings

 

 

Comments

[Carrie]

This post? Was awesome. It reminds me so much of what my husband and I deal with on a daily basis. This post should win some kind of award.

[Jen L.]

I agree. All married people with young children should be required to read this post. This is exactly why I've loved your writing for so long...you show that we're all going through different versions of the same thing. Marriage, like womanhood, like parenthood, like all facets of life, redefines itself over and over. Marcus and I are very different than 12 years ago when we met and even 5 years ago when we married, but when we're granted that rare moment to really reconnect, we find we're still very much the same,too.

You and Luke are fantastic together and I've always admired your teamwork. Also? You're looking great in that purple dress!

[Must Be Motherhood]

First: HUBBA HUBBA you sexy thang in that purple dress! WOW.
Second: I applaud your candor in this post; there is so much I've wanted to share about marriage on my blog but I just couldn't do it.
Third: I absolutely bawled at my best friend's wedding last year because of all they'd been through as a couple (more than 10yrs too) and yet there was so much beauty and hope in their union...meanwhile I was feeling especially down about my own. It sure as shit IS harder than we all thought, and you nailed it on the head: the ups and downs are way more generous than we anticipated. I totally get your "I didn't sign up for this" feeling. There are years I've felt it very strongly. But then I ask myself, "What did I sign up for? A life of things going exactly as planned? How boring." That's on the good days, anyway. ;)

[Operation Pink Herring]

Beautiful, thoughtful post... as always.

[AJU5's Mom]

Great post. Love really is an action, and as a result marriage takes work. You two have definitely put the work in so far. You have found ways to work with what you have been handed, and you have dealt with it all well. Congratulations on almost 5 years of marriage!

[rkmama]

Bree, this was so well put. Bill and I had been through so much personally and as a couple before we were even married that we thought we could handle anything. Marriage with small children proved us wrong in a way, but proved us right as well. Yes it got infinitely harder than we expected. I think back to Keaton's first year when we were both so absolutely drained we didn't have any empathy or kindness to give back to one another. Our marriage felt like a shell, we formed a solid front for our kids but on the inside it felt pretty empty. But! It got us through and though I don't expect things to be all roses, knowing we could make it through that bound us that much tighter.
You and Luke are an amazing couple, great parents and great problem solvers. Such an inspiration when I know at least 5 couples that got married in the last five years who have already divorced. This marriage thing is definitely not for the faint of heart!

[Molly]

Wow, Bree. This is so well written, and so honest. What a testament to the ups, downs and reality of marriage. Amazing.

[daddyd]

Good job all around. Parents can be judged by their children. You both get A+ on all counts. I am so glad to be around and see your family developing.

[Parker_B]

Amazing post! Your honesty about relationships (especially the part about just one sigh throwing the whole day off track) is really appreciated.