The Marriage Post

It's been 13 years since I made a really good choice.  Best decision.  Yesterday was our wedding anniversary and we celebrated over a large pot of mussels.  I pulled the sequin mini out from the back of the closet because, well, I just don't really have the chance to wear such things much anymore.  It was so nice to have a night to ourselves to talk about our wedding, our marriage and how we were transitioning between styles in 1998--oh my. 

I'm counting on lucky 13 to carry us through this next year.  For those first few anniversaries, I was optimistic that the next year would hold so many promises of greatness for our marriage--that our marriage would just keep getting better with each passing year.  But that was before we grew up (after all, we were a mere 22 and 23 when we exchanged rings).  The reality is, it gets harder to make a marriage work.  Not because we don't love each other--not because we aren't grossly committed to each other--not because we weren't a good fit from the start, but because life happens.  Romantics can boo me all they want,  but life can be hard on a marriage.

The first few years we were married we lived in beautiful, Victorian-era apartment building in a small city.  We walked everywhere together and we ate long, late diners on our deck with friends who lived in the apartments above us.  Close-by friends meant eating breakfast together in our pjs on snow days and staying up through the night before stumbling back to our respective apartments.  It was like an extension of college-- like Melrose Place-- except we didn't sleep with each others' spouses.  It didn't matter that we counted dollar bills in white envelopes each month because we only had to worry about ourselves and our little apartment.

Fast-forward 13 years.  Donovan and I bicker over the stove about how to respond to situations with Noemi.  We bite each others' heads off in frantic "who the hell knows anymore" tones.  We debate, analyze, re-analyze and live in an uber-conscious state.  I throw the broccoli and cry, he delves deeper into his work.  Many days, life seems like it's all about the disrepair.  Our focus is rarely on each other or ourselves--but on a sweet little ladybug.  And we are worn out.

Sometimes we see ourselves as a winning team with a strong offensive line, other times we yell at each other from the sidelines as our defensive line gets pummeled. (Did I really just make a sports analogy? I believe I did).   Not that Donovan and I are playing against Noemi.  Let me be clear:  We, the three of us, are playing against the things that had hurt her and made deep grooves in the structure of her brain.  We all play each day to win with the intention of not reinforcing old, destructive brain pathways that were established before we knew her.  We wake up with our game-face on (uh--sometimes) so that we create new, healthy pathways and continuously reinforce the use of those pathways.  With constant, repetitive use they will eventually become the trusted, dominant paths in her brain.   We replay scenes in our minds, debating whether or not we made the best move.  Sometimes yes, sometimes no.  We are in this together--the three of us--playing the most important game of our life to date.

Donovan and I doubt, we debate, we agree, we disagree.  We have no clue.  We lose perspective.  We are tired and somehow, when one is incredibly tired, crusty jelly on the kitchen counter seems so much more concerning.  But we love each other and try really dang hard to make as much quality time for each other as we possibly can.  We are committed to loving and laughing despite our flaws, which have, incidentally blown up like pubescent acne through all of this. 

I now know that this next year may not necessarily be easier.  I no longer trust Mr. Hallmark and his deceiving, wooing, smug-inducing ways.  I have to trust in something greater.  The realities of life tell me that we just don't know which hand we are going to be dealt and that our situations can change in a blink, without warning and without instruction.  Maybe this year will be blissfully calmer and we will get our steady back--perhaps the sequin mini will show its face again.  Or perhaps a new challenge will be thrown our way that will, again, test the strength of our marriage.  Who knows.  What I do know is that we make a choice everyday to be in relationship with each other and I wouldn't want it any other way.

13 years ago yesterday, we read the following prayer together during our ceremony:

God our lover,

in whose arms we are held,

and by whose passions we are known,

require of us also that love

which is filled with longing,

delights in truth,

and costs not less than everything.

Through Jesus Christ.  Amen.  

Last night, we took off our wedding bands and looked at the inscription on the inside:  "Whither thou goest, I will go."  We agreed that it was the perfect inscription for us; and 13 years later it holds more meaning than it did on the day we had the rings made.  So here is a toast to my faithful husband...*clink* ...a true blessing in my life.  He is the one I would choose again today.  I wouldn't want to throw broccoli at anyone but him.

I agree. He's one handsome lobster.

Noemi has fallen hard for the lobster on the corner in front of Mike's Seafood in Sea Isle City, NJ.  We drive by this guy enthusiastically waving to the public all the time, and when we stop for our fresh catch she can't hop out of the car fast enough to shake that big red claw.  She let out a squeal this past weekend, however, when the playful lobster followed her into Mike's.  The moment he stepped over the threshold Noemi let him and all of Mike's patrons know that he had taken a step too far.  Clearly, he belongs on the street and only on the street.  Poor lobster guy--he felt really bad about making her cry.  No worries--they quickly made up and were back to flirting in no time. We finally got the lobster to violate his summer job contract and talk to us, only to find out it has been the same guy in that suit each and every time we stop by.  Thanks, Davor, now Noemi has a name for her crush. 

Crab Therapy and Beyond

After the heightened anxiety of the last few weeks, we fled to the shore for some quiet time as a family.  The beach has proven to be therapeutic for all of us in the past; and I am relieved to see that Noemi genuinely lights up and feels regulated when she has full access to an unending water source.  Tip:  the farther out she has her tongue, the more she is having a blast.  As long as we park ourselves by the ocean's edge, our girl is one delighted soul.  We knew that our family needed some shore time.

Scene One:  The Shore
We initially spent a few days as just the three of us and then good friends joined us to round-out the holiday weekend.  And it was just what we all needed.  Noemi got her water-play and Daddy-throw-me-higher sensory input and I got my sun and butt-on-the-sand input.  I also got to dive into picking crabs with my dear friend, Ellis, who craves them as much as I do--nothing beats a glass of chardonnay and a heaping plate of steamed beauties. For the record, Ellis and I sat there long after the table was cleared and the sky grew dark, picking and sucking away.  Note:  This is not a turn-on to most husbands.  Some girls get manicures, Ellis and I pick crabs.  

Noemi hanging tough with the big kids

Scene Two:  Coming Home
Since returning from the shore, we have been on lockdown for uber-conscious intimate time.  Today, our giggly, rested, regulated girl was back.  She affectionately called me "mommy bird" and tweeted playfully for me to feed her. 

But here is where I get all sappy about how the struggles eventually beget great rewards...if we just are able to hang in there...(oh, and how I hang on by a string sometimes).

As I gave Noemi her bottle last night during our normal bedtime routine, she gently leaned her head back and looked in my eyes.  Mind you, this happens occasionally.  But it's rare that she is truly at complete rest with her eyes for more than a few seconds during bottle feeding.  She has great eye contact during conversation, but bedtime has a history of being a vulnerable time for her.  Typically, she'll look in my eyes then start to tensely blink and avert her eyes while making incessant chatter.  She hasn't physically resisted sleep in months, but it's interesting how she hangs on to the control/resistance through her eyes and voice.  Last night, her eye contact was long enough that I studied the little pigmentation spot she has on her right eye and the lines in her deep brown irises.  It lasted for what seemed like minutes.  Admittedly, I teared up...but she didn't look away.  She just kept sucking and gazing until her eyes slowly closed.

I am fully aware that this seems like such an everyday I-can't-believe-this-is-the-subject-of-a-blog-post baby behavior.  But that's my point.  This is what newborns naturally do.  And this is what Noemi has worked so hard for the last 22 months to learn to do with me.  Noemi has demonstrated before that her "explosive periods" are often an indication that she is on the verge of taking a step toward becoming more attached.  And so, I celebrate the minor miracles that matter so much.   Even though we were back to dodgy eyes during nap-time today,  she demonstrated a new connection last night.  What mother doesn't yearn for that? 

Counting the blessings...

Who's the cutest Ethiopian on the block?

Noemi's Adoption Day was on June 30th and this year was the two-year anniversary of the day we officially became a family.  Oh, holy crap--has it really been two years!?  It was fun to be able to tell Noemi the story of our happy tears and look at photos from the day she became ours and we became hers--she caught on to my excitement and proudly pronounced that it was her "adoppom day."

We sported our traditional Ethiopian garb and headed out for some injera and tibs for dinner with Grandma.  Noemi's little white dress was a bit smaller on her this year compared to last year --I suppose next year it will likely fit more like a tunic.  Is needing more cute dresses a good enough reason to get on a plane back to Ethiopia?  I think so. 

When we were in Ethiopia  in 2009 we bought one present to give to Noemi each year on her adoption day until she is 18.  We gave her a set of jute animals to play with in the restaurant while we waited for her Yëkikk Alicha to arrive (yellow split peas--her yum yum fav).  She's already named each of the animals and spent the bulk of this afternoon feeding them cereal and lifting up each of their tails so they could poop.  atta girl.

Happy Adoption Day, my love.  I am so, so grateful that you are my daughter.  Eternally grateful.