My son is right on the cusp of toddlerhood. At a ripe old age of 8 months old, he is doing his darndest to learn how to walk - pulling up on everything, free-standing, and falling - a lot. Also biting. But that one we are discouraging.
Eight months into this life of his, we are starting to feel a bit more comfortable - not pros by any stretch of the imagination, but less of the "why on earth did they let us take him home?" and the "gahhh what does he need?" guessing game. At 8 months, there's some semblance of a rhythm - naps, bedtime, eating time - and less of the chaos of the "fourth trimester." Should you find yourself in the fourth trimester, take courage my friend, it does get easier, even though this stage too has unique challenges.
A few months ago, a friend asked Jon and me, if we would consider walking with her, and her fiancé, in some pre-marital counseling. My first instinct was to laugh, and then maybe think about crying. Because at a ripe two years and some odd months into marriage, the idea that we would help in preparing anyone else for marriage was both humorous and terrifying because we're right in the heart of the toddler years of marriage.
As I write this, my son is climbing, back and forth, and back and forth over my legs. And falling a lot. This is what the toddler years of marriage look like. Practicing the same things, over and over and over again. And falling a lot. And then getting back up again. A lot. Not the chaos and total unknown of the newborn era - nor the fresh flowery excitement of the newlywed era - we're starting to feel a little bit more comfortable, but are not pros by any stretch of the imagination.
But after that initial query, I've been thinking a lot about what love after marriage has looked like - what we learned, how we've grown - and so I share, not because we have it figured it - in fact I'm pretty sure we don't yet - but because we're learning, and growing.
Two years into marriage, we know a lot more about the other than we did when we got married. What makes him tick. What frustrates me. How
we load the dishwasher. Stories about them that we'd never heard before. And the ones that we could tell from memory because we've heard them so many times. And secrets, that no one else knows and most likely never will.
We can identify what our regular fights are, because we have them... regularly. And we're more keenly aware of the ways in which we are different. And we're starting to have "our" family rules, as we move towards the middle of blending "the ways we have always done it" from our families of origin into our own unique family traditions. We're also learning that
good fights are worth having.
We've learned how to make up well,
and to always make up, even if we're still learning how to fight well.
We've are learning to talk to each other. Not just in a conversational sense, but in the real, honest, sometimes vulnerably hard ways of
talking to rather than waiting for the other to figure it out. We've learned that as much as we love each other, mind reading is a farce, and it's better all around if we just tell the other what we're wanting or needing. Yes, we verbally affirmed this before marriage - and were better than some at communication (thanks, long-distance) - but have still had to grow in it.
We're learning that sex is a beautiful part of marriage - not just for pleasure or fun or satisfaction, or making babies, although it's great for all of those - but as a part of loving the other, making up, grieving together, celebrating together, and growing together. And while honeymoon sex was great, two years in just gets better and better. For what it's worth, (IMHO) married people need to talk about sex more, because otherwise all we have as a picture is the cultural picture that you gotta get get get before you get married, and enjoy the "good stuff" and then settle down for a long, boring (only occasional) ride. And I don't actually think that is, or should be, true.
And we're discovering lots of "our" things and "his" and "her" things - and understanding that there need to be both in a healthy marriage - not a loss of individual identity as we do EVERYTHING together and the same - but also not total autonomy as we neglect the unity. Jon loves to watch football. I like to sew. We both like to read. We both run (one of us loves it, the other not so much, but we do it together anyhow). We're both foodies, and we both love to cook, brew, and otherwise putz around the kitchen. Jon needs quiet time, without conversation. I need lots of talking time. And we're constantly doing the juggling act to find a balance of "us," "me" and "you."
And after baby, we're learning that we both have a finite amount of selflessness - and with a needy, mostly helpless wee one depending on us - often times that storehouse is pretty empty. Giving selflessly to the other takes intentionality; before baby yes, but most certainly after baby. And so we're learning again to love selflessly with intentionality. And in that, we have different ways of receiving love - so part of loving selflessly, is learning to love in the way that the other receives as love.
Then, there's the way that we talk about and talk to one another. We are supposed to challenge one another - to be catalysts for growth - to help refine the other, yes. But when you do that all the time, it feels somewhat similar to rubbing sandpaper over your face repeatedly. It's grating and frustrating and can lead to gaping, bloody wounds. There is a timeliness to challenging one another - in any relationship - when it's for the sake of the other, rather than just for your sake. And that's a hard one in marriage, when the others growth IS for your sake also.
Lastly, we're learning not to shame the other, and to affirm one another (a) often, (b) honestly not fluffily (is that a word?), (c) privately, and (d) publicly.
Did I know these things before marriage - absolutely. Did we practice most of them in dating - yes, to a degree.
But the day-in and day-out of marriage tries, tests, and proves what you actually believe, want and live - rather than just what you can do for a time. And that's where the growth, the selflessness-stretching, and the refining of marriage happens [or at least has thus far for us, as this is my story, not a summary of all marriages ever]. The years - our two thus far - are what actually prove and refine who you are, not just who you want to be.
So what does our "love after marriage" look like?
It looks like date nights in, on the couch with Trader Joe's two-buck-chuck and steak tips (or leftovers, let's be honest), watching Lost, between trying to get the smoke alarm to stop going off and trips to the kitchen for more brownies. And "I love you's" and grocery list making...
It looks like trying to interpret what Jon is trying to say, with gestures and mumbles, mouth full of toothpaste and toothbrush, and lots of giggles (or guffaws for J since he "doesn't giggle") , as we get ready for bed.
It looks like staying up late, through tears, and tiredness, to finish a fight - because we're committed to working through it rather than go to sleep angry and unresolved, even though in the moment it's easier and even desirable to just say "whatever" and roll over.
It looks like changing diapers, when it isn't our turn. Or getting up with S, so that the other can sleep a little longer. Or cooking dinner AND doing the dishes. Or balancing the budget, and squeezing a little extra out so we can stop for dairy queen. Or using your allocated "fun money" to do something together, rather than for something for yourself.
It looks like apologizing, again, for the same thing - and forgiving again - for the same thing. And reminding the other - again, without demanding - what we need, with grace, when it doesn't come naturally.
It looks good. Hard. Challenging. Beautiful. Deep.
Lovely.
