Holy Matrimony

I am recently married. I love being married. I always wanted to be married. Everything about being a wife, as I saw it--- domestic life, having a partner, being a mother-- appealed to me at a base level since I was a teenager.

But I couldn't jump right into marriage- for a few reasons. First, I had expectations placed upon me (by my family as well as myself) to accomplish some level of success professionally. To that end, I gained prestigious work experience and attained an advanced degree. I had a good job and very decent earning power. Check.

More importantly, I didn't have anyone to marry. I wasn't a girl who dated a lot. For the most part, when looking for potential mates, I never got past the attraction/flirtation phase. It seemed that whenever I "liked" someone, the feelings were not reciprocated, or vice versa. I also found it nearly impossible to meet people beyond one random encounter-- especially someone I would like; especially someone I could love. And if I did find someone that I could love forever, I knew that wasn't enough. It had to be more than love- compatible goals and outlooks, similar ideals about family, and that special connection you feel with someone you know is the person you want to be with, every day for the rest of your life. It seemed so unlikely to find that perfect storm. Even having a husband now and knowing plenty of happily married couples, it still amazes me that such connections are ever made. I don't know how it happens.

But it does happen. It happened to me. I did meet him. We had our ups and downs, we fell in love, we worked out the kinks, we got engaged and we got married. What I am realizing now is that a major part of why I wanted to be married is because I thought I would be my best self in marriage. And now that I am married, I am grappling with exactly who that best self is. As much as I reflect on marital status and say to myself "phew, that's over!” I also ask myself, "what now?"

My mother was an accomplished physician who gave up her career to focus on her family. She was a super mom and she seemed very happy in that role. If she had even a modicum of resentment about leaving her profession behind, she never showed it. She was, and still is, an amazing homemaker. She kept the house clean and safe, cooked all of our delicious meals, helped us with our homework and carted us around to our numerous activities. So it's not too surprising that that is exactly who I want to be.

But it isn't that simple. I love the concept of being a housewife and under the right circumstances, would happily devote myself to the operations of the household without even having children. However, we live in a time in which that is not so easy. With kids or without, very few couples can afford to live comfortably on one salary. And being that I do have a solid resume and that I don't yet have children, it seems to make perfect sense to "DINK" (Dual Income No Kids) it for while-- save up for a time when we do have children and might want one parent to leave the workforce.

Lately, when I have bad days, I find myself daydreaming wistfully for a time when I will have kids because at least then, my days would be filled with caring for them, not doing this stupid job. I hate feeling that way. Usually, I love my job. And I certainly don't want to push up my childbearing schedule to justify leaving my career behind. Plus, even though I would proudly deem my profession to be "full time mother", there is a part of me that will mourn my professional self. I can see myself a few years from now at a dinner party-- someone will say, "What do you do?" And I'll say, "I'm a mom. I have two kids." And they will stare at me blankly. I'll want to shake them and scream, "Don't you look down on me! I graduated college at twenty! I worked for Merrill Lynch and Lehman Brothers!" (The collapse wasn't my fault. . . I don't think.) "I have a Master's degree, goddammit it!" I'm usually a confident girl. I know I'm smart and accomplished, so who cares if others don't? Turns out, I do.

But I do genuinely want to be a mom, and ideally I wouldn't wait very long to start having kids. It's annoying enough that people are constantly asking you when you want to have children even before the wedding, but I find that when I am able to block out that noise and really think about what we want, there are no clear answers. Even if we are financially and emotionally prepared to be parents, we can't be prepared for all of the ways our life will change. For example, I have always imagined traveling with my husband- am I prepared to postpone several desired trips for at least eighteen years? (Interestingly, several recently married people I know, including myself, have been booking all kinds of tropical and historic travel.) I have the sense that when we do have a baby, it will be such a happy blessing that the fact that I never made it to Tokyo won't really seem important. But are we ready to devote ourselves fully to another person? And how will we know when we are?

Another marriage paradox I have been grappling with involves how we spend our free time. Although I would be very embarrassed if you walked into our apartment right now, I do spend a decent amount of time on cleaning and upkeep. So when my husband wants me to join him in watching his favorite football team or playing poker with his friends (which is indeed very sweet), I'm happy to join him, mostly because I love spending time with him, and I like that he includes me. But I have realized that between working, cooking, cleaning, and that husband-time, the things I used to love to do have sort of taken a backseat. Which brings me to my original point. When I was younger, say, in college, I would fantasize about who my fully adult self would be- not only a loving wife and productive member of the workforce, but a person who volunteers, is involved at her place of worship, is active and healthy, and is a lot of other things. But I'm not that person, not to the extent that I envisioned. So when will I be that person? I'm not the single, meandering girl I used to be. I’m no longer primarily wondering when and how I will find my soul mate. My personal life is wonderfully secure. I am out of excuses.

I can get pretty down about that at times. But I figure, the fact that the kind of wife, mother and woman I’ll be is so consuming my thoughts says something about where I am today. I wanted to get married relatively young; did I really think I'd have it all together in my twenties? Or did I think being a mother would magically turn me into an all-knowing entity? That doesn't make much sense. For me, the best thing about marriage isn't feeling certain about who I am. It's that I now feel free to discover who I want to be. I am getting there-- one work deliverable, one cooked meal, one vacuumed room, and one poker hand at a time.