Life after the honeymoon phase

Jennifer Ditlevson Haglund

He was skinny, his skin baked red and freckled, and he promised me two things: First, our honeymooning phase of early marriage would surely end sooner than we expected, and second, he could fix our car.

I almost pushed the vehicle home then, but I needed it for work the next day. As I waited, he rambled on about how eventually I’d become a nag and Tim would lose interest in me. If we had kids, they’d surely add to our inevitable unhappiness. According to his estimation, we had about two or three years until everything would begin to fall apart.

It had only been two or three months since our wedding, and this stranger was predicting an early seven-year itch for us both. We thought we’d only have to deal with his prognostications when we had car trouble, but his family moved into our apartment complex.

Once we became neighbors he backed off a little, but he still liked to attempt jokes about how Tim better “stay out of trouble” or else I’d “tighten the leash.”

Before we got married, we were subjected to plenty of well-meaning advice about everything from sex to the division of household labor. We participated in premarital counseling, and we were told that we were well-matched. According to our pastor, our primary issue would be finances. Even though we didn’t have any money, we’d have to learn how to talk about it and manage it together.

Every time someone challenged our commitment or warned us of cooling romance, it felt like a bet we wouldn’t dare to lose. We’d show them. Besides, we’d already faced difficulties in dating and engagement, so we weren’t expecting paradise.

After six years married and one child later, I’ve realized how some of those warnings could have become reality. But there was one piece of advice that has led us through a lot. My mother doesn’t take too long to get to the point, and she told us that we needed to stay on the same team.

It sounds simple, but for all the talk in marriage ceremonies about “two becoming one flesh” or the lighting of unity candles, there are still two individuals with different family experiences, interests, habits, and expectations in the relationship. Staying on the same team is harder than it seems, especially when you find that living without the other might serve your individual goals or desires better.

Keeping a marriage intact, whether or not it ends in divorce, takes both people choosing to work together. The longer you’re together, the more you compromise or sacrifice. Even if both people are happy, there’s an opportunity cost to being married.

If both Tim and I had remained single and maybe only casually dated, we would have been more successful earlier because we wouldn’t have had to take turns. We’d never wait up for anyone, and we’d have more time for our hobbies. Some couples choose to live long-distance and do very well, but we never worked well apart. After 18 months of crashing on friends’ couches throughout the week to keep going to our grad schools that were 120 miles apart right after we got married, we said we’d never do that again. We don’t even like it when one of us comes home late, let alone spends days or weeks away.As much as we try to encourage each other to pursue our dreams or spend time learning and experiencing new things, we have to find time to stay in touch.

We decided we wanted children, too, which introduced another individual into the union we promised to guard and cherish. Our daughter isn’t a root of bitterness in our marriage, like our former neighbor once predicted, but she does complicate everything. Without her, we’d have at least three more hours a day to spend doing whatever we wanted. We wouldn’t have to scope out places for her to “go potty” or cross our fingers in hopes that the stupid ice cream truck would quit lurking around our neighborhood because we don’t want to deal with a tantrum when we say “not today.”

This year for our anniversary, we couldn’t find a sitter. So we ate ice cream in the living room and spent time together while she slept. We’ll need a raincheck for our anniversary date, but that doesn’t mean that guy who fixed our car was anywhere near right.

Jennifer Ditlevson Haglund is a former news reporter for the Maryville Daily Forum, now living and writing in New York City.