A lot of things change when you say I do, and your vows turn into the everyday exchanges that mark your new status. It takes some getting used to, but it’s all for the good, as you settle down to your new life together.
Mumbling over our words has – suddenly – become commonplace in our house. Here’s why.
“Yes, I’d like to place an order for delivery. That’s one extra hot double cheese burger with chips, and for my, er, for my, girl…no. For my wife! My wife would like…”
There are two things you should know about my family: firstly, that we order takeout once a week, and secondly, that we love our words. Talking is one problem we don’t really have in our house, because nobody ever really shuts up. That’s not a bad thing – at all – but does become a bit of a mumble as we move into married life.
Ask anyone and they’ll tell you how “marriage changes things” and “If I knew what I know now, I don’t think I’d get married again.” I’d like to dissect those statements for a bit, if I may:
Marriage changes things: This was a legitimate fear for our life, and probably one of the fundamental reasons why I wanted a long engagement. In some ways, I worried about changing things, because I didn’t want our life rhythm rocked. But as we talked through the things that scared us, we both settled on a home truth that’s as good as my spaghetti (as per the food critics that sit at our dinner table every evening): life has thrown barrels of change at us before and, every single time, we’ve come out stronger.
We’ve changed careers, moved homes, changed schools, managed personal hells, lost people to life, lost people to death, slept too little with too much to do, started businesses, grown beards (him, not me) and sprouted grey hair (both of us) and yet…the essence of who we are has remained the same. We still have that same rhythm of life, eight years down the line, and would’ve had it without having married, anyway. Will marriage change things sometime soon? Probably. Will it change things in the future? Definitely. None of this scares us.
If I knew what I know now: We’d been dating for six months when my mother died. Before that happened, she’d been extremely ill, and I was a basket case. Not exactly the most refreshing start to a relationship.
He not only saw me through that process – he sat with me in it. There’s a significant difference there. He really had no reason – other than, as I would later learn – love; to delve right into the intricacies of my life, and tangle himself right into them. He had no fear in doing so.
As I would learn, over time, when it comes to me and my life, he is never afraid. Whether that’s me yelling at the sky, or weeping into my tea, or trying to cobble together my sanity after a really hard day…he’s never scared. Slowly – and I mean, slowly – I let down my guard and learnt to trust. I’ve never been granted a guarantee on that trust, and I’ve never been given a reason not to believe in it. Those are odds I’m willing to tango with. If I knew then what I know now, I’d have let myself trust him a little sooner.
Perhaps our mumbling is rooted in a sense of disbelief, because I sure as heck never put marriage on my life vision board. And yet, here we are, just over a month in. Slowly though, that mumble has become words, and as I look across the dinner table, I see how all the words that mean so much, matter even more than before.
Now that the vows have been said, the paperwork signed, and the dress packed away, I’m learning to call him my husband out loud. And, as the months become years, and years become anniversaries, I know we’ll speak our titles more and more into life. Dear Internet, allow me to introduce you to someone: this is my husband.
Picture: Lauren Setterberg Photography
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