I first crossed paths with my husband on my 24th birthday, and over the next six years, we transformed from carefree young adults into responsible partners. We took on the journey of life together, moving from the East Coast to the West, switching careers, and eventually returning to our roots. We tied the knot, purchased our first home, and shortly after, welcomed two children into our lives, followed by a third. We managed to balance our marriage, our careers, and our growing family, and we did it with apparent ease.
We were the couple everyone admired. Fun, humorous, and relaxed, we genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. Whenever friends confided in us about their marital struggles, we offered sage advice, feeling quite wise and accomplished. We believed we had it all figured out. We looked down upon couples who struggled, proud of our seemingly perfect relationship.
But in hindsight, we were fools.
After the birth of our third child, my husband received a job promotion. While the salary increase was modest, the travel demands skyrocketed. I urged him to turn it down—financially, it made no sense. With three kids under four, the cost of full-time childcare would far exceed his raise. However, he accepted the position.
The following years became an uphill battle. Our laughter faded and arguments became more frequent. We lost our sense of teamwork. I felt overwhelmed, juggling child-rearing and household duties while he traveled, blissfully unaware of the chaos I faced. The pressure mounted—I cried while dropping off my sick children at daycare, and I cried at work, feeling like a failure. I had little left to give to my marriage, my kids, and my job.
When my husband returned home after long trips, we were like strangers. He would come into my life, and I would pass the kids off to him, seeking solace outside. Sometimes I’d go to a friend’s for a glass of wine; other times, I’d sit in my car and cry until I felt sick. Yet, I would return home to see him joyfully playing with our kids, and for a moment, everything felt okay. Until it didn’t.
On our tenth wedding anniversary, I made the decision to leave my job. My salary accounted for half of our income, but I needed time to regroup. I initially asked for a month off, but that turned into three, and then I announced I wouldn’t return at all.
Anger and resentment soon entered our lives. He felt the weight of our finances solely on his shoulders, while I was frustrated that he couldn’t understand my perspective. He was hurt by my sudden decision, and I was reminded of his past choices that had affected our family.
With him traveling frequently, I had created a routine with our children, and he felt like an outsider. His role as the primary breadwinner made him spend even more time working, leaving little room for family time. We were both selfish, consumed with our feelings and unwilling to compromise.
After nearly eleven years of marriage, I reached a breaking point. I told him that our marriage, as we knew it, was over. We couldn’t afford to divorce or even to separate, so we agreed to keep living together but had no expectations of each other. It was a harsh conversation, but it opened the door for honest dialogue.
What followed was a surprising shift. He responded with kindness—a rarity in our recent history—which softened my heart. This sparked a cycle of vulnerability and connection that we hadn’t shared in years. The worst year of our marriage became a turning point. We realized that we needed to work on ourselves and our relationship.
Looking back, we questioned how we had strayed so far from the couple we once were. We accepted that we could never return to the past; instead, we chose to move forward together.
Now, two decades later, we are still navigating the ups and downs of marriage. We’ve learned that anger doesn’t equate to hatred, and that each of us has our own individual goals and challenges. While we still frustrate each other and experience moments of intense anger, we also find laughter and joy in our relationship.
We survived 2009 because we had no other option; walking away wasn’t feasible. And through that struggle, we discovered a deeper appreciation for the journey of marriage—the valleys and peaks alike.
We are still a fun couple at heart, still a bit foolish. But we’re also wiser, and we continue to grow together.
For those of you who can relate to this story, check out our other blog post on navigating relationships at this link. If you’re looking for reliable resources on home insemination, visit UCSF’s Center for expert guidance. And if you’re interested in at-home insemination kits, BabyMaker offers reputable products.
In summary, our marriage nearly shattered but instead became a new beginning. Through commitment and hard work, we transformed our relationship into something stronger, learning valuable lessons along the way.
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