Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Oct. 14, 2014
Nestled along the historic riverfront of Wilmington, North Carolina, we enjoy a picturesque life that’s distinctly Southern—yet not overly so. With breathtaking views of the Cape Fear River, beaches just a stone’s throw away, and a lively nightlife, it’s no wonder we live in a land where weddings are a common sight. Riverboats glide by, hosting parties with brides twirling in white, while we occasionally stumble upon groups of revelers, tipsy in their designer dresses and ballet flats.
Just a couple of weekends ago, my husband and I were relaxing outside a local brewery with our boys, sipping on some sunshine and beer, when a lively group of wedding guests came into view. They were animatedly debating the start time of the ceremony and where everyone needed to be. Young, radiant, and full of charm, they reminded me of a time long past.
I turned to my husband and asked, “Do you remember when we were part of a wedding every weekend? Was that really us?” We exchanged a gentle touch before our 3-year-old decided it was time to throw rocks at passing trucks.
Fast-forward a week, and I found myself surrounded by friends, engaged in deep and meaningful conversations for two whole days. It felt wonderful to connect, but beneath the joy, there was a tinge of sadness. The theme of the weekend? Divorce.
My friends spoke candidly, and their words echoed in my own thoughts, revealing a troubling reality: as women, we are navigating a tumultuous period of change. Gone are the carefree weekends steeped in coupledom; instead, we face the weighty questions of identity and the state of our marriages. Many of us are grappling with two big questions: 1) Would I be happier outside of this marriage? and 2) Am I setting a healthy example for my child(ren)?
Fear and confusion hang in the air. Right now, marriage feels burdensome.
As we approach this stage of life, we’re simultaneously hopeful for the future while clinging to memories of the past. Old wounds and harsh words still linger, yet we dream of exotic vacations and the life we’ve always envisioned. We’re on the cusp of what should be golden years, where free time beckons, yet we can hardly find the time to finish a book.
Each year of motherhood brings change, and while our self-confidence grows, so does our desire for reassurance: “You’re wonderful. I love you. You’re perfect just as you are.”
Life is currently a whirlwind of drop-offs, pickups, sports teams, and endless demands. We long for the one who loves us most to sprinkle some fun into our lives. Major transitions have left us drained, and every day brings more emotional demands, lessons to teach, and Band-Aids to apply.
We yearn to feel desirable and passionate, yet we find ourselves wiping snot with our shirt sleeves after carting muddy kids in from the rain. Life is undeniably tough at the moment. It’s a beautiful journey, indeed—the most blessed adventure I will ever embark on—but it’s also messy. In this chaos, our marriages sometimes become lost, swept away like discarded trash.
Transitions are tough, and moving from the sleepless nights of newborns to the freedom of preschool is a significant change. Parenting is always a transition.
What I do know is that marriage requires effort from both partners. At times, it feels like nurturing a newborn: you have to feed it, change it, and sometimes you just need to offer comforting sounds, despite your fatigue. Just like raising a child, marriage demands commitment. You must push through the tough times, believing that on the other side, your bond will emerge stronger and more profound.
I wish the men in our lives could feel the shifts happening within us, the feelings we struggle to articulate. There are moments I want to shake them and say, “Just hug us more, cook dinner occasionally, and love us. Ask questions, show interest, and love us!”
As for my friends, I can’t say what the right path is, except that unless there’s abuse or infidelity, knowing when to leave is murky. Much like the riverboats gliding above, beautiful relationships can hide turbulent waters beneath.
I know I’m in a loving relationship where both of us are committed, but even that can feel heavy at times. Still, my marriage brings me more lightness and joy in this adventure called life than anything else (even if marriage is often seen as disposable). I intend to weather these transitions, nurture my relationship, and see what unfolds as we approach our golden years. And then I’ll want to shake the husbands and say, “Love them, please. Treat your marriage like your new child.”