Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Happy Nineteen

This past month contained my and Amy's 19th wedding anniversary. Can you believe that? It was 1994 when we and a bunch of friends and family trudged out to the sweltering woods outside of Three Rivers, Michigan, and tied the knot at a little Latvian cultural day camp called Garazers (which our invitation designer insisted on pronouncing “Gazzazaps”). And now, almost two decades later, we celebrated by dropping off our daughter at her grandparents' house, hitting a Chinese buffet, and then going home to read for an hour in utter and complete silence. It was awesome.

But while we were scarfing down sushi, we did take a little time to talk and reflect, and one of the things we discussed was how we’ve managed to last so long. Not that we're particularly surprised by it, but more that in the world around us, it seems like less and less marriages do. Not many first marriages, anyway. And high school sweethearts, as we happen to be, are even rarer. So what did we do right? And I have to preface this by stating that we in no way consider ourselves "gooder at marriaging" than anybody else, or that we're just "more in love" than other couples. We just noticed that we’ve had a few factors in our life together that have conspired to get us to this point. I'll enumerate them now...

First of all, we were friends first. As clichéd as that sounds, I think that really is the most reliable way to form a lasting relationship. Like I mentioned, it was in high school. She thought I was nerdy and cute, I thought she was funny and pretty and was clearly a great friend to have. And even though it took a little over six years from the day we met to the day that would later necessitate celebrating a nineteen-year anniversary, we spent the first three and a half years of that courtship setting up a great friendship. That hasn't changed, as it does with all the best friendships. We still say things that the other finds funny and surprising and supportive on a daily basis. If you've got a friend like that, you’d better hang on to them.

Next -- and this reason is central enough that it affects the rest of the reasons -- we couldn't get pregnant, and it took over ten years of work and sacrifice to actually get it to happen. As terrible as it was at the time, it gave us plenty of time to figure out who we were -- not just as a couple but as individuals -- before we started introducing brand new little people into the mix. We went through a whole lot of stuff in those thirteen years; illness, bankruptcy, infertility ... now I can see that it all made us stronger, that each little victory was adding another brick to the foundation of the team we've become. If we had also been dealing with young children at the time, it would have been immeasurably harder.

When you become a half of a couple, there's less room to give priority to your own wants and needs. There's another person to consider in every decision you make, major to minor. And then, when a child comes along, your own ego and selfishness has to be pushed even further into the backseat. If your relationship up front isn't solid, the chances that you'll be able to continue to live with each other goes down. Maybe (hopefully) not by much, but it does go down.

Another major decision that we made before little folks became a factor was our careers. I had been working at Borders since shortly after we got married, and by the time the century changed, I knew that it was where I wanted to stay as long as I possibly could. And after going through several jobs, Amy decided that what she really wanted to be was a stay-at-home mom. It was really her dedication and refusal to give up -- combined with my improved health insurance when I successfully lobbied to get back into Borders after being outsourced -- that made it possible for us to jump through the necessary medical hoops to make our dreams of parenthood come true.

Lastly, and maybe even most importantly, is the fact that we have differing opinions on a lot of things, and we don't necessarily feel the need to convert the other person. It's something that I attribute to our first getting to know each other when we were still teenagers. When you go through your late teens and early twenties, you suddenly find yourself in successively larger worlds, moving from high school to college to career to full-scale independence. You change a lot in those years, mentally speaking, and your worldview and how you see your place in the Universe really gets solidified during that time. We went through that side by side, and eventually came out with differing ideas about things. For example, Amy's a Creationist, and I'm a believer in evolution. Every now and again this becomes something we discuss, but for the most part it doesn't come up, and because of that it demonstrates to us, I think, how unnecessary it is for people with such different beliefs and ideas to hold animosity for the other. The journey toward your own personal truth is a slow, gradual realization, and having someone by your side who is going through that same journey, no matter where it leads, is something that's supremely valuable.

There. I think I've managed to sound sufficiently smug and superior for one entry. Seriously, I don't think that we have all the answers, in fact I know we don't. We're just two people who lucked into meeting someone we're incredibly compatible with, fell in love, and had faith in that and stuck with it even when things got rough, even really really rough. Outside the world of romantic fairy tales, that's the true heart of a couple's relationship: the dedication and work that it takes, the self-sacrifice and faith in the other person. I guess that's the takeaway here.

To wrap up, let me re-dedicate this site to my wife, Amy, who has stuck by me (and been stuck to by me) for the last nineteen years. We've got a long way to go, and I'm glad she'll be the one to make the journey with me.

No comments:

Post a Comment