A Married Woman

I thought it was our ninth, but no. It’s only been eight years. Only. It feels strange that I’ve chosen to use that word, because to me eight years is forever. I’ve never stuck at anything for this long.

Our anniversary was yesterday. It was up to me to organise something, but I couldn’t really be bothered organising something. Last year the husband spent a lot of time and energy searching for the perfect restaurant, and then when we got there the restaureteur accused me of being pregnant. Which I wasn’t. So that kind of sucked. Remembering that I thought, Screw it, we can just go out for burgers and bowling.

Burgers and bowling is us, really. The husband got to wear shorts and jandals; I got to wear overalls. We didn’t have to pretend we were anything or anyone we’re not. Frans and Fern, we’re not exactly high class.

In the end the bowling didn’t happen, because the place with the burgers (terrible burgers, what even) was hosting a quiz night. I very kindly let the husband answer pretty much all the questions; he very kindly let me drink over-priced beer. I did answer the question about The Bachelor though, because I’m actually a little bit obsessed with that show right now. God knows why.

Marriage is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I rushed into it, you see, young and full of some guy I hardly knew’s baby. The night I realised I had a baby on board I told him he was going to have to marry me. I didn’t mean it, but I meant it.

He proposed officially when I was big and fat and round. A jewellery box on my pillow. A hand written note. I was wearing pajama pants, but I guess he didn’t mind. I said yes. We planned a wedding. We said I do in front of many, many people. That’s just what you do. Or what we do. Did.

When times are tough between us I remember what I said, full of hormones and fear.
You’ll have to marry me now.
And I wonder if I pushed him into this. I wonder why he stayed. I wonder if our life full of children is what either of us would have actually chosen, had we taken just a moment to stop and think before we jumped into our life together.

But the truth is I’d be lost without him. I doubt I’d ever have grown up. He is my opposite. My anchor. My conscience. He is the voice of reason when all my reason is gone. Sometimes I complain that he doesn’t talk enough, but the truth is I love being the one saying all the things. My voice can be strong, but it hates to compete.

I love our humble life. I love living within our means. I love the children we have created and the memories we have made, and I love how far we’ve come. I love that I have a husband. I love that my husband has me. And as if all that gushing isn’t enough, I love that we are we.

– Fern xxx

Facebook Comments
Love it? Share it!

Leave a Reply

CommentLuv badge