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.