artificial insemination syringe
Updated: June 21, 2021
Originally Published: June 21, 2021
On a sweltering Sunday afternoon in June 2019, my husband, a 50-year-old attorney who usually dresses in formal attire, found himself sprawled out on the sun-drenched pavement of a gas station. I mirrored his position on the other side of our car, squinting to figure out the source of a strange flapping noise coming from my Honda Fit.
“It looks like some screws may have come loose,” Mark remarked, gesturing to a large shield dangling precariously between the front tires.
It was a relief to identify the problem, especially since neither of us had much knowledge about cars. Perhaps, just maybe, we wouldn’t end up stranded in the middle of nowhere. We were already racing against the clock.
Mark’s old friend from high school, Dan, was getting married to a woman from the Dominican Republic, where Dan owned a bar while primarily living in Nashville. We hadn’t seen him in years, and there hadn’t been a formal invitation; instead, Dan had called Mark a month prior, asking us to join the wedding festivities at a vineyard near Traverse City, about four hours away.
The actual time of the ceremony was uncertain until shortly before we departed. “It’s either four or four-thirty,” Dan told Mark. “I’ll check.” Mark and I exchanged bemused glances.
Reflecting on our own wedding almost 16 years ago, held in a movie theater in Ann Arbor, I recalled how much we had changed during those years apart. Those periods of separation had likely helped us grow stronger as a couple, and now, when frustration arose, we focused not on whether we could live with it, but rather on how we could work through it.
Back on the road, our car began to thump again, prompting me to voice what we were both thinking. “This trip feels doomed.”
In addition to the car trouble, Mark had lost his wallet just two days before, leaving me responsible for all expenses. We had set out late that morning, struggling to get our two daughters to their grandmother’s house, which was, of course, a half-hour in the wrong direction. To top it off, two hours into our adventure, Mark suddenly exclaimed, “Oh no! I forgot my clothes for the wedding!” He had left a pressed shirt, jacket, and tie at home.
As he vented his frustration, I spotted an outlet mall and quickly took the exit. Mark grimaced as we browsed through the American Eagle store. “These shirts are terrible!” he declared, raising his voice. “I’ll look ridiculous in this!”
Yet moments later, I stifled a grin as I handed over my credit card to buy a blue button-down shirt that, while a tad snug, would do the trick. “This mall visit was actually great timing,” I said, feeling proud of my quick thinking.
Mark remained grumpy, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. It was easier for me to stay upbeat because I had my wallet and the clothes I needed, and I was merely a “plus one” at this wedding. However, I also missed the feeling of being competent in our everyday life. Since my unexpected layoff three years prior from a position that had shaped my identity, I had struggled to find my footing in the job market.
Despite having some freelance work, Mark’s demanding law job was our primary source of income, which weighed heavily on me. Yet, on this chaotic journey, I managed to overcome every obstacle that day. We made it to the wedding just in time, arriving at 3:59 PM for a 4:00 PM ceremony.
As we took our seats on folding chairs, watching the bride arrive via golf cart, I couldn’t stop smiling. In “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck,” Mark Manson states, “Happiness comes from solving problems.” He is right. Contentment comes from knowing you have the skills to navigate life’s challenges.
On that wild June day, we faced a series of setbacks, but we tackled them together, reminding ourselves of our resilience as a couple.