Settling Into Happily Ever After

In honor of our eighth anniversary, which was Thursday, I thought I'd share another chapter in my love story with Bill.

After our fairy tale wedding on Vancouver Island and an intimate reception with family and friends back home, we settled into domestic life almost effortlessly. Bill moved his meager stash of furniture into my house, including the giant blue chair that I absolutely despised and an antique dresser that took up residence in our closet. Other than the chair, I was pleasantly surprised at how naturally our lives meshed.

Our First House

The Blue Chair - With Matching Ottoman! (Bill's Apartment)

Unlike most of the couples in our marriage class, His Needs/Her Needs, we didn't fight over domestic chores, bill paying, or child rearing duties. (Granted, we were the only newlyweds in the class.) Without any negotiations or even any discussion, Bill took up about half of the household chores. We shared the cooking and the dishes pretty equally. He washed laundry, and I folded. I cleaned the bathrooms, and he mowed the lawn. And he gladly helped with five-year-old Ethan's homework and bedtime routines.

Ethan in First Grade Classroom

There was only one area where we weren't so compatible: he was a night owl, and I preferred to go to bed early. I was used to going to bed by 10:00 and getting a full eight hours of sleep, but he liked to stay up until almost midnight. I tried to get him to turn in earlier, but it was hard to tear his attention from the TV; he needed that time after all the chores were done to relax and unwind.

Since one of my favorite things about marriage was snuggling and talking before I dropped off to sleep--promise you won't tease Bill about that--I decided to adapt to his schedule. But then he compromised by coming to bed around 11:00 instead of midnight.

My 33rd Birthday, One Month After Wedding

[So, that's it, you ask? Where's the drama? Hey, this is me we're talking about. Of course there was drama!]

The hardest adjustment for me was reconciling my expectations with reality. Somehow I expected wild nights of passion and long walks in the park, earnest conversations in the evenings, and adoring glances and lavish compliments. In other words, I expected Bill to meet my every need and love me in the way that I thought he should.

The reality was far more... ordinary. As I mentioned, there were lots of household duties, and there was Bill's propensity for mindless television. By the time we turned in after 11:00 each night, there was little energy for conversation, let alone passion.

I was crushed. Right around PMS time, the drama arrived with a vengeance. I stewed for days, wondering why Bill didn't seem to be nearly so in love as I was. Did he love me at all?, I wondered. No, we were just roommates, I concluded. I wanted desperately to confess my hurts and fears, but I was ashamed of my insecurities. It reminded me of the painful transition when Bill had first moved to Texas, which was maddening.

After a few days, I broke. Bill had dozed off almost the moment his head hit the pillow; I knew because I could feel his muscles twitching as he held me. Meanwhile, I lay wide awake, my eyes burning with unshed tears and my chest tight with anxiety. I took a deep breath and whispered, "Are you awake?" No answer. I elbowed him gently and repeated "Are you awake?"

"Uhnnnn," he groaned.

And thus began our the first Relationship Talk of our young marriage. As you might imagine, it went downhill from there. I ended up sobbing uncontrollably while Bill helplessly patted my back, shaking his head in confusion. "I thought we were happy," he said.

"We a-are," I sobbed. "I just don't think you love me like you used to."

"Of course I love you! I moved down here and left all my family and friends to be with you. Why would you think my feelings had changed?"

"You don't... look at me the same way. You don't tell me I'm beautiful. I don't know."

"Well I don't know how I used to look at you, so how am I going to look at you that way again?"

"That's just it!" I cried. "You didn't have to think about it then."

The conversation got us nowhere, except that Bill promised to try to show more affection. But of course, he didn't--at least not that I could tell. He just kept loving me the only way he knew how. That scene repeated itself almost once a month for at least the first year. Bill was always patient, but I could see that my insecurities were wearing on him. He'd get angry with himself because he just couldn't seem to do it right, and that put a new distance between us.

I got angry with myself, too, because I couldn't stop sabotaging our happiness. The sad thing was, I knew from our marriage class exactly what was wrong. We were speaking different love languages, and his messages weren't getting through. His love language was acts of service, and mine was words of affirmation. It just wasn't natural for him to express his love in words. I understood with my head that Bill's way of loving me was making sure I never had to touch the trash, or buying me the most thoughtful gifts, yet that didn't fill the craving in my heart.

A more mature woman would have focused on addressing his love language, making sure that he felt loved. But I just kept hoping he would change, and trying to help him change by communicating exactly what I needed.

As the years passed--yes, years--I mellowed out a little. I prayed more, pouring out my heart to God in my journal. "Why can't I be happy, God? Why can't I just love Bill as he is?" Gradually, my meltdowns slowed to every two or three months, and then six months, and then once a year. I learned to fight the urge to start a Relationship Talk after 11:00 P.M., and that it was better to pray about it for a few days and ask God to give me the right words and show me the right moment.

Eight Years Later
It's been eight years, and my last meltdown was over a year ago, I think. I can't remember when, and I think that's a good sign. I still get my feelings hurt, but I'm learning to let those feelings go. Through years of Bible study and meditating on scripture, I'm beginning to fathom how precious and loved I am in God's eyes, and that makes me believe that I'm also worthy of my husband's love. But I've learned that my worth doesn't depend on Bill's love, and that he can't possibly meet all my needs.

Our marriage isn't perfect, and we still don't live that life of wild passion that I envisioned, but I think what we have is better. Different, but better. We make each other laugh almost every day. We share the same goals. We love spending time with our kids.

I'm free to be myself with Bill. Just like God, he knows everything about me, and he loves me anyway. I'm so thankful that neither of them gave up on me.

Circle Of Strength

Out of the blue, here's another chapter in my love story with Bill....

Since we were married in Vancouver (in March 2003) we ended up having two receptions--three if you count the small family dinner at the hotel on our wedding night. The Texas reception was held at my house, now ours. Although it turned out to be a most bittersweet day, the experience is one of my most treasured memories.

One thing that made it fun was that it was very much a family affair. All the women in my family sat down at Christmas to plan the party, each promising to bring her trademark appetizers. We even designed the invitation together. My friend Verusha was going to make the cake, but she ended up going out of town that week. So guess who brought the cake? Okay, you'll never guess, so I'm going to tell you. It was Carla! Remember her?

Anyway, the food was perfect, and our house was overflowing with dear family and friends.

 Newlyweds Casey and Marie
(A Friend from my Thursday Group)

Angela and Me (She and Her Sisters Had Thrown me a Lingerie Shower) 

It was fun showing off all the work Bill had done on the house, like laying tile, painting and hanging nicer baseboards, and replacing the wood under the banisters. I tried to listen to all the conversations swirling around me, but all I could catch was a few snippets. It didn't matter. The contented chatter and the laughter enveloped me like my favorite bathrobe.

But underneath all that was a layer of sadness that most of the guests probably missed. If you looked closely, you could see the glint of tears behind the smiles.

Amy, Rick, Dad, Mom, Melody
Emily, Me

Just a couple of days before, we'd all gathered at Mom and Dad's to visit with my sister Amy, who'd flown in from Indiana. That was when we learned that my brother Rick had colon cancer and would need surgery and chemotherapy. He was only 43 years old, and he had two teenage children. Of course we all cried in those first moments of shock, but Rick's wife Diane admonished, "I don't want everyone crying over Rick. He needs us to be positive."

As we set everything up for the party that Saturday, she reminded us, "No crying today. We're here to celebrate Bill and Sarah's wedding."

She was right, of course, and I think we did pretty well following her advice. Still, there were moments when I'd exchange glances with Mom or one of my sisters, and a few wayward tears would escape despite our determined smiles.

By the end of the evening, after hours of talking and eating and opening presents--which produced a staggering number of remarkably unflattering photographs that I'm resisting the urge to post--we were utterly exhausted. After the last of the other guests left, the whole family stood in a circle in our living room and held hands.

That's 5-Year-Old Ethan on the Front Row

And we prayed for Rick, prayed like we'd never prayed before. I don't remember what we said, but I remember the love and strength that radiated through that circle. It was at that moment we realized just how much we loved each other. We'd always been close, but I guess we'd taken each other for granted up until then. It reminded me of a little refrigerator magnet that Bill's sister or mother had just given us:

Our family is a circle of strength and love. With each birth and every union the circle grows. Every joy shared adds more love; every crisis faced makes the circle stronger.

Over the months that followed, we spent a lot more time together while Rick battled the cancer. I can only imagine how difficult it was for him, but he weathered it resolutely. I respected him so much! And I grew to love my sister-in-law more than ever. She was fiercely protective of him. She looked out for him in the hospital, making sure he received the highest level of care. She stayed by his side every day, yet still managed to keep their family going in his absence. And she always reminded us to stay strong and stay positive for him.

It's been eight years now, and Rick is healthy. At a follow-up a year or so back, his oncologist gave him the news we'd been waiting for: "You can tell your family to stop worrying now." And I think we have. But our family will never be the same.

I probably wouldn't have chosen to mark the beginning of our marriage with such sorrow, but now I realize what a fitting start it was. As a new bride, my head was full of romance and passion, but from Diane I learned that there is so much more to marriage. I pray I can be just as strong a wife and mother whenever my family needs me.

The Fairy Tale Wedding

Oh, I've missed you. I've been terribly busy lately and also was in Portland all this week for work (more on that later, probably). I haven't posted in awhile, and my mind is overflowing with stories. Since I'm already so far behind anyway, I think I'll go way back and share another chapter in my love story with Bill.

On March 8, 2003, Bill and I set off for the airport with five-year-old Ethan and both of my parents.

See Ethan's Eye Patch?

We flew to Vancouver that morning, and the next day our two families took a ferry to lovely Vancouver Island.

Ethan and His (Soon to Be) Nana

We toured Victoria and shared a delicious dinner that evening. I remember it as a very jovial meal, a great time for our families to get acquainted. The best part was ordering one of everything on the dessert menu and passing it all around the table.

After a soak in the hot tub, and a flawless manicure from my future sister-in-law Sheryl, I retired to the room that Ethan and I shared with my parents. They fell asleep immediately, but I lay awake for a very, very long time, assuring myself I was really ready for this.

On my wedding day, I was so nervous I could barely eat. All I remember doing is getting my hair and makeup done, alongside my mother. We headed over to the gorgeous seaside hotel, Sooke Harbor House, with plenty of time to spare before the twilight ceremony.

 The package we'd ordered came with a bouquet, a cake, and a gourmet dinner for two in the hotel restaurant, which was rated the third best restaurant in British Columbia at the time. Everything was perfect, and I didn't have to agonize over any of the choices!

Nephew Kurtis With Bouquet

The Cake Tasted Even Better Than it Looked

Since the hotel was surrounded by rain forest and it was early spring, we weren't sure until the last minute whether we'd be able to get married by the ocean. When the time came, the sky was dramatically overcast, and there was a bite to the air. My ethereal gown no longer seemed like such a good idea.

I tried to convince Bill to get married inside, in front of the fireplace, but he insisted that a wedding by the ocean would be much more romantic. Although I shivered through the very brief ceremony and all the pictures, now I know he was right. The pictures--a gift from Bill's sister Lisa, who was shooting her very first wedding!--were so beautiful.

The only guests besides my family were Bill's parents, his brother and sister and their families, and his grandmother. They all gathered around us, sitting on benches in the garden. We could hear the gentle sound of the surf down below.

I've always wondered what the minister was saying when Lisa took this shot:

Can We Think About It First?

Oh, What the Heck. Why Not?

When the ceremony was over, we walked down the "aisle" to the imagined strains of the wedding march. An extra member of the procession trailed along behind us.

Nephew Travis Tags Along

Inside, we climbed the stairs to our room for some pictures on the balcony. When the guests in the lobby caught sight of a bride and groom heading upstairs, they broke into raucous laughter and catcalls. I could feel my face turning crimson, but all that attention was pretty fun.

Catch, Sheryl!

When we came back down just five minutes later, the people in the lobby laughed even harder, and so did we. Next, we went back into the chilly evening air for lots of pictures. Here are my favorites, both candids that Lisa managed to capture between shots of all the family.

Keep Me Warm, Bill!

Sweet Nothings

Meanwhile, Ethan and his new cousin Kurtis had a blast playing together.

After 20 minutes or so, Lisa's other son Travis decided enough was enough; he wanted his mommy. So Lisa took a picture of him:

Next came the best part. We all sat down around a long table in the cozy dining room, next to the fireplace I'd been fantasizing about. Even the minister joined us for an incredible meal, artfully presented on plate after plate. My dad remarked that it was the best meal he'd ever eaten, and I had to agree.

Me and Daddy

The funny thing is, I can't remember what we ate. What I do remember is the hum of conversation all around me as I sat and watched the people I loved most in the world having a great time together.

See My Satin Cape?

At last it was time for everyone else to go away on their separate vacation, on another part of the beautiful island. Ethan was very anxious about separating from us, but Bill was able to comfort him.

Bill and I stayed three more days in this gorgeous room, which came with a jetted soaker tub and no TV.

Each morning we woke to the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below, and this was the view we contemplated as we ate pastries so delicate they melted in our mouths. 

During the day we enjoyed massages, picnics, and long walks through scenes that belonged on a cheesy corporate inspirational poster.

The only thing that tempered the perfection was the fact that it rained every single day. I wasn't too disappointed, though, because Bill had prepared me. And didn't he look dashing in his raincoat? I thought so, anyway.

There was one more problem: we wanted to stay much longer! But we had to return to real life. We took the ferry back over to Bill's parents' house, where Ethan greeted us ecstatically. On our last day there, Bill's extended family and many family friends came to the house for lovely reception.

Everything about our wedding trip was exactly the sort of fairy tale I'd been afraid to hope for. I wouldn't change a thing.

No, Really! I Love It!

This is the story I remember each year when we're doing our Christmas shopping....

Whenever I shop for gifts, I feel a mild stress in my gut because I have no confidence that I can choose something someone else will love. The reason for this is that I'm not at all observant; I miss out on all those little clues to the perfect gift. I wasn't even aware of my disability in this area until I met Bill, the perfect gift giver. He's so good, he knows even better than I do what I will need or enjoy.

For example, when I opened my birthday present a couple years ago, I was a little mystified to find a giant black binder with dividers and a stack of sticky photo sheets with cellophane covers. Didn't he realize that, with all my scrapbooking knowledge, I could never use a photo album if it wasn't archival quality?

"It's for your recipes," he explained.

"Ah," I said, still unconvinced. But that turned out to be one of my most useful gifts ever; I use it almost every day. With the dividers to separate the various categories, I can find any recipe with minimal effort. Better still, our bottom drawer is no longer bursting with random sheets and index cards.

Over the years, Bill's given me so many perfect gifts, most romantic in an offbeat way because each gift shows me that he's been studying me, and he knows me very, very well.

No, You Didn't
But there was one Christmas when it seemed his perfect gift had crashed and burned. It was our first Christmas as a married couple, back in 2003. We were chatting at work one afternoon a few weeks before Christmas, and somehow the topic of leather clothing came up. (I can't imagine why we were talking about leather at work, but I'm sure it must have seemed logical at the time.)

"I really don't like leather coats," I announced unequivocally. Immediately, Bill's face contorted with some emotion I couldn't discern, but it didn't look good. Why would he be offended by my dislike of leather coats? I searched my memory; maybe he had a leather coat himself? (He did.) Maybe he thought I was being narrow minded and judgmental of all people who wore leather?

I hastened to add, "I don't mind leather on other people, I suppose. It's just that it's really not my style." Now his face was turning red, and his mouth was twitching in that way that means he's struggling to control his annoyance. What on earth was bothering him?

"I guess some kinds of leather are okay," I said in a conciliatory tone. "Oh, yes. I actually have a leather coat, don't I? You know, the brown suede one that I only wear when I go to Chicago. That's a good coat, so warm.... So I guess I just don't like the shiny kind of leather. What's that called? You know, the black, shiny kind."

"So you're saying you don't like black, shiny leather coats?" Bill gave me a dark look.

I laughed nervously. "Well, I guess it just reminds me of girls in tight miniskirts, hanging all over a rock star," I explained apologetically. "Sort of trampy, I guess."

"What if I told you I bought you a leather jacket for Christmas?" he asked.

"No you didn't," I laughed heartily. How ridiculous would that be? It wasn't even Thanksgiving, so why would he have bought my gift already?

"Maybe I did."

"No you didn't!" I repeated. I laughed even harder, tears clinging to my lashes.

"Okay, I didn't," Bill said with a shrug.

I returned to my desk, shaking my head and marveling at what a kidder Bill was. By the second phone call, I'd forgotten the entire conversation.

Oh, You Did!
It all came rushing back on Christmas morning, though. Sitting cross-legged in front of the tree, I ripped the paper off a neatly wrapped box and excitedly lifted the lid. There, nestled in tissue paper, was a leather jacket--a black, shiny, form-fitting leather jacket!

My mouth dropped open, and my face flushed up to the roots of my hair. It must have been most amusing for Bill, or at least it would have been had he not spent too much hard-earned money on that coat.

I held the jacket up with trembling hands. "It's very nice," I said lamely.

"Don't even bother," Bill said dryly. "You don't have to pretend you like it. As soon as we get to Vancouver, you can return it."

"You bought this in Vancouver?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes, on our visit in the summer. I would have exchanged it if I could have, but there was no way to do it."

Poor Bill! How awful to secretly anticipate this moment for months, only to find out that I didn't like his carefully selected gift! My heart was pierced with regret.

I pushed myself painfully onto my numb feet and put the jacket on. The leather was soft and supple. I could tell it would be just warm enough for our mild winters. Standing in front of the mirror in the cramped half bath, I pivoted to see the jacket from all angles.

"You know, I LIKE this jacket," I said in surprise.

"No you don't," Bill said.

"No, really! I love it!"

"No you don't," he repeated.

"The only problem is I think it's a little tight," I said ruefully. "Do you think it's too small?"

"Sure, it's too small," Bill said dubiously. "It's okay. I already told you you can return it."

No matter how I tried, I couldn't convince him that I liked the jacket. At Danier Leather the next week, Bill said, "You can pick whatever you want, maybe something suede. Or we can just return it and you can buy something somewhere else."

I asked the salesperson if they had the jacket in a larger size, but she said they didn't carry that style any longer. She showed me several other similar jackets, and I found one that fit perfectly and was just my style--honestly!

I've worn the heck out of that coat over the last six years, and it still looks practically new. It's warm enough to wear outside, but light enough to wear inside if I want to. I had no idea how much I'd enjoy a shiny leather jacket, but Bill knew. Unfortunately, he probably STILL doesn't believe that I like it.

Me in my Decidedly Non-Trampy Leather Jacket

Me, Ethan, and my Niece Mindy (And the Jacket) in Vancouver, 12/2004