Marriage

3 Conversations to Have During Pregnancy for Better Postpartum Intimacy

Every pregnancy and every child has taught me something new. As the L&D nurse who taught my childbirth class in 2015 often said, “no two mother-baby couplets are the same.”

But one thing is true of every pregnancy and new baby: I have to lean on my husband a lot, and I’ve had to relearn how to do that, again and again, amidst the transitions of new motherhood.

For all couples, welcoming a child is an intense and emotional time in a marriage—in good ways, mostly, but in stressful ways, too.

It will be difficult to have big, emotional conversations during the sleepless and chaotic months of life with a newborn. But if you can lay the groundwork for better intimacy now, you’ll be more prepared to support each other and will feel more loved once baby arrives—and that will make for a much more blissful transition as a growing family.

Don’t forget to touch on each of these topics before baby arrives. You’ll be so glad you did!

1. What are you family planning needs, and how often should you touch base and discuss whether they’ve changed?

Talk openly with your spouse about whether you anticipate wanting to avoid pregnancy for a period of time after this baby is born. Are you hoping to have children close together, or would you prefer to have a bit more time between pregnancies?

First thing’s first: You can get pregnant while breastfeeding. Delayed return of fertility is not a given, and many women conceive before having their first postpartum period. Please don’t assume it can’t happen to you! And don’t assume you and your spouse are already on the same page about whether you want it to happen. A surprising number of couples believe they’re in agreement about this issue without discussing it, or simply don’t think about it until after the birth—and that can make for a lot of conflict.

I have encountered two types of couples when it comes to family planning postpartum: “whatever happens, happens” and “we are not ready.”

Both philosophies are valid. Neither is wrong. I, for one, tend to land in the second group. The newborn stage is hard on me, and it takes a lot of focus to stay afloat.

Of course, any baby would be welcomed with open arms. Every child is a gift and will be received as such! But, so far as we can be, my husband and I are intentional about delaying pregnancy in those early postpartum months.

If you’re more the type to go with the flow and conceive when you will, that’s great! It’s good to be on the same page either way.

Most importantly, no matter what you expect to feel or want before this baby is born, be sure to establish some targets with your spouse about how frequently you should revisit this topic after the birth. Things can and do change—either because your feelings are different than you anticipate, or something health-related happens that introduces new factors—so you’ll want to communicate well on this as your family grows.

If you do hope to delay pregnancy, have a good strategy in place. Charting for natural family planning often looks drastically different postpartum and while breastfeeding, so be prepared for a learning curve and some follow-up courses with your instructor—even if you’ve been using the same method without issue for years.

Bring these questions to this conversation to help you cover everything:

  • Do you need to urgently delay pregnancy for a period of time after this baby is born? Or are you comfortable not charting for fertility? Does this differ from what you were used to pre-pregnancy and, if so, are you feeling prepared for that change?
  • What will you do if something about the birth, or mom’s or baby’s health, forces you to change those plans? How can you support each other if this change in plans is upsetting?
  • What NFP method will you use, if necessary?
  • How confident are you in that method?

2. How will you prepare for sex to look or feel different while you’re still healing and your new family responsibilities are placing extra demand on you?

Parenthood changes a lot of things in a marriage. Certainly these changes are beautiful, and a welcome part of growing together with your spouse. But there are also some growing pains involved.

One common challenge is with physical intimacy. The large majority of couples enjoy a normal sex life after the birth of a child, but there can be an adjustment period. Lingering discomfort from delivery (especially if there were complications), the drastic hormonal changes that come with birth and breastfeeding, a lack of sleep for both parents, new stresses, complexity with NFP, and simply less time in the day can mean sex is less frequent, less easy, or less comfortable for a while postpartum.

To prevent hurt feelings and miscommunication in the moment, it’s important to address these possibilities with your spouse before baby arrives. You might have a tough time talking about it in detail in advance—it’s difficult to imagine what all of these complications might be or feel like, especially if this is your first child—but it could be even harder when sensitivities run high after baby arrives, so it’s good to open the lines of communication early.

Be open about your fears and anxieties on this subject—including not just those involving physical difficulties, but emotional ones, too. In particular, talk about how you might help soften the blow for one another on the occasions you’ll need to turn down sex. Encourage one another to be open to intimacy, even if it’s not top-of-mind, when you’re able, because the opportunity to reconnect and draw closer is more beneficial than you might expect if you’re not immediately in the mood.

You should also be comfortable discussing how you can be more receptive to each other’s needs, help each other enjoy sex, and what you’ll do if any ongoing issues arise and need medical attention.

Bring these questions to this conversation to help you cover everything:

  • How long is too long without intimacy? Are you willing to be generous with each other in this way, while respecting each other’s need for rest and space?
  • What will you do if sex is initially painful once you’re postpartum? How can you emotionally support each other through it?
  • Do you have medical resources lined up to address painful intercourse if necessary? Will you want to pursue them right away, or take more time to heal on your own first?
  • What insecurities or concerns are you feeling about how sex might be different after the birth of a child? How can you help soothe them for each other?
  • How can you ensure you’re communicating openly and often with one another about this subject? Can you agree on some codewords or phrases to help break the ice before discussing it, in case you find it difficult to bring it up in the moment?

3. What types of nonsexual intimacy will help you stay close to one another if sex is not an option?

Whether you need to abstain in support of physical healing or NFP, or simply aren’t up for sex as frequently for a while, it’s absolutely critical not to let the separation get between you and your spouse. Sex isn’t everything, but it is good for an awful lot of things, and that’s not something to be discounted—especially in a time as stressful and exhausting as life with a newborn.

It is especially beneficial to discuss this one well before your due date. As pregnancy progresses, sex may become uncomfortable or self-conscious or tricky. Even if you have no restrictions during pregnancy, your medical provider is likely to instruct you to abstain for the first six weeks postpartum. That may be a longer dry spell than you’re used to as a couple, so being well prepared will help.

The biggest thing here, as cliched as it may sound, is to deeply understand one another’s love languages and how to fulfill them outside of physical intimacy. Practice your skills in other areas: kind words, helpful gestures, exchanging gifts, and spending focused time together. Be open about what helps you feel loved and appreciated, and what you tend not to notice.

If one of you has physical intimacy as a primary love language, but the other doesn’t, talk about that in detail. Does cuddling or other physical touch help during periods of abstinence, or do you find it frustrating? If you’re at odds on those preferences, how can you compromise so neither of you feels rejected in the moment?

This is also a good time to talk about what it means to feel “touched out,” and how the physical neediness of a baby might interfere with your physical closeness as a couple. For Mom, it can be simply exhausting to hold, feed, and rock a baby all day and night. For Dad, the messy diaper changes or looking after older children solo while Mom tends to the new baby could zap a lot of energy. These are normal feelings, and it’s okay to want some additional personal space during this season. But it’s important to be gentle and generous with one another about communicating and fulfilling that need, so no one’s left feeling unwanted.

Bring these questions to this conversation to help you cover everything:

  • How can you connect with one another when you’re feeling distant but can’t be physically intimate?
  • What good habits can you establish to stay close as you adapt to your new roles as a family?
  • How can you express the need for space or time to yourself without being hurtful or feeling guilty?
  • What sorts of physical touch help you feel close when sex is not an option, and what’s too much?
  • Which love languages do you share, which differ between you, and how can you better practice them for each other starting right now?

Life Stages of a Healthy Marriage

My husband and I are celebrating our eighth anniversary this week. Naturally, my mind is full of memories of our wedding, honeymoon, and the almost 16 years we’ve spent together.

Every year, our anniversary is also a time to reflect on how much we’ve grown over the course of our marriage. This marriage is still young, but we’ve experienced a lot in that time.

How do you think healthy marriages age? I see it lining up pretty closely to human years (which makes sense, of course—we’re not dogs!). I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and it’s the metaphor I like best—maybe because it’s so deeply relevant to our life right now, with three kids at three different stages.

It seems apt, though. Consider:

The first year or so is full of awe and rapid growth and sleeplessness, setting the stage for lifelong bonding and changing everything about your life. Just like babies, newborn marriages need a ton of care and attention to mature well. Sometimes that care and attention are difficult and take a lot out of us. Often it’s an absolute delight. But always, we are rewarded tenfold.

Then there are the toddler years, full of youthful energy and excitement about new experiences together. Spouses in this stage need to talk through feelings often and have those feelings validated, as well as learn to listen to one another with respect and restraint. It’s a great time to learn each other’s languages, and start communicating in big ways.

In the preschool years, new settings are both exciting and, at times, overwhelming, and we have great fun and some shaky moments, too. The playful adventuring is how we gain confidence in ourselves and trust in each other after the newness of life together wears off, and the challenges of the real world start to look bigger. There’s still so much reliance on one another for support and guidance, but expectations are higher, too.

The school-age years of marriage are busy and creative, as we learn to look beyond our relationship and see how our family unit plays a broader role in the world around us. Many couples have children at this point, and/or greater commitments to their careers or local communities, and juggling these responsibilities in addition to managing their own emotions and relationship can be tricky at times. It’s much like a school-age child learns to pursue new interests and gain more independence—but still needs a restful home and loving family to recharge with. If a marriage is nurturing, it’s a comfortable place to call home in stressful periods.

I imagine the adolescent years as busy and transformative. These will be the years when we have older children in activities, a bit more freedom to pursue our own interests, and maybe career moves and retirement planning to think about—that sort of transitional phase where so much of our focus is on near-term stress for long-term gain (just like high school, right?). I think it’ll be easy to feel like teenagers who want to be independent and taken seriously, which will make it all the more important to check in and reconnect frequently. We’ll need to harness the intensity of it all for good, and not let it spiral without structure.

And maturity in marriage? Those will be the years when things feel a bit more steady. Certainly plenty of circumstances will come along to rock the boat, and, like any long-married couple, we’ll need to continue practicing all the skills we’ve learned to help us stay sharp. Maybe there will even be a crisis or a curveball that will force (or inspire?) us to change and grow more than we thought we’d need to, so far in. But above all, being ourselves—together—will come a little more naturally, and there will be an even stronger foundation to lean on when the world feels shaky.

Anyway, this is how I imagine it. At eight years, our marriage is firmly school-age. We haven’t encountered the rest yet. But I find myself really anticipating the adventures ahead and looking forward to the growth that remains before us, as well as the comfort.

What I do know is this: None of the beautiful qualities of any of these “life stages” in marriage are a given. Just like people of all ages can lose themselves if they and their loved ones aren’t invested in their health and wellbeing, so, too, can marriages at any stage. I pray every day that my husband and I receive the grace to be selfless, attentive, and patient enough to keep investing in each other.

Marriage is the foundation of society. It’s the most central way we build families, lift up our beloved, help each other get to Heaven, and instill faith and compassion in the next generation. It is a privilege to live this vocation. It is also a lot of work.

Sometimes we take this critical relationship for granted. We see and work with our spouse day after day, and we may find ourselves expecting their help more than their affection. It’s so easy to fall into that trap—to make the beautiful normalcy of marriage into a thing that fades into the background. I pray it may it never be so, for my marriage or for yours. Because our spouses deserve better, and it is our great privilege and duty to give them the very best of ourselves.

There is no greater force against evil in the world than the love of a man and woman in marriage. After the Holy Eucharist, it has a power beyond anything that we can imagine. – Cardinal Raymond Burke

15 Unique Ways to Celebrate Your Anniversary From Home

Much like birthdays, anniversaries can become smaller and smaller events as the years go on. The busyness of daily life just takes center stage, leaving these special occasions a bit overlooked for many couples.

But even if a pandemic, financial constraints, or just the chaos of your usual routine make it difficult to go out and celebrate, it’s still so important to rejoice and remember the start of your marriage with your spouse.

To help you reconnect, here are a handful of ways you might find the time to make it an event this year.

1. Watch the first movie you ever saw together. You can browse your DVD collection, streaming services, or digital rental platforms to find it, then settle in on the couch and feel like you’re dating again. Sometimes, this first shared movie will be just as you remember it—but often, you might have a very different perspective on it now than when you first watched. After it ends, talk through these impressions.

2. Write up a family mission statement. Whether you’re a family of two or ten, it all started with your wedding day—so why not make this, your anniversary, a new starting point as well? Sit down together to draft a family mission statement that can help you capture your love and values, and tell the world who you are. It’s a project, but it can be so fruitful.

3. Dress up to stay in. Staying home doesn’t mean you can’t get fancy. If it’s something you or your spouse enjoys, plan to put on your best clothes and get dolled up. You can set a timer on your phone’s camera (or have a family member or neighbor help you out!) to get a great picture, and then you can either get back into comfier outfits or stay fancy for the rest of your evening. It’s a small but effective way to make a day feel special!

4. Go through your storage boxes of old mementos. You probably have boxes somewhere in your home, full of sentimental items from your early years together, wedding gifts you don’t use very often, or things you each brought from your childhood into your shared life. Take an hour or two to peruse them. It’s a fun way to rustle up new memories to share with each other, and reminisce on moments you haven’t thought about in a while.

5. Take turns making each other’s favorite meals. Preparing your spouse’s favorite food is such a simple but significant act of service. Try to plan ahead so one of you can make breakfast, and the other can make dinner—and be sure to serve your spouse’s very favorite things when it’s your turn (without asking them what they want first).

6. Light every candle you can, slow dance to your first song—and then fast-dance to your favorite wedding party songs. Both a dimly lit romantic moment and a playful one, taking some time to share this intimacy and silliness will be a great reminder of why you fell in love and what it was like to be called “man and wife” for the first time.

7. Talk about how your wedding might look different if you planned it right now, with your current tastes and more recent trends. Do you think you’d change anything? Might the venue be bigger, or the food fancier, given your budget and preferences today? Or would you want every detail just the same? There are no wrong answers—your wedding is the start of your marriage, not the heart of it, and you might think another kind of party would appeal to you in your current life stage.

8. Get a large map, and mark all the places you’ve explored together—and where you’d like to visit next. Make it a map of your state, your country, or the whole world. Whatever you do, dream big—but make these dreams as attainable as possible, so you can work toward them instead of only wishing.

9. Pretend you’re writing your marriage memoirs, and think up an appropriate title for each year’s installment in the series. Consider major milestones, look back through photos to spark memories, and try to come up with the words or phrases that define each year of your life together so far. Do you each have different ideas on these, or are you mostly in agreement on what they should be?

10. Think back to what you expected marriage to be, and talk through what you were right and wrong about. Sometimes, these disparities are hilarious: “Did you really think that you would be the one to wake up first every morning?” Other times, they might be more thoughtful. Either way, these reflections will help you remember how it felt to look forward to marriage and all of its promise—a precious feeling every married couple should take care not to forget.

11. Laugh over funny “what if” conversations. What if you had to choose one language for speaking, and a different one for writing and reading? Which would they be and why? What if you had a new baby right now? What would you name him or her? You can find loads of these prompts online. When you’re with your spouse all the time, it might feel like you’ve talked about everything—until you ask him something like, “What if you woke up tomorrow and, instead of using spoken language, everyone just acted out popular GIFs to express their thoughts?”

12. Share one way your spouse has helped make you a better person. It is the great duty of marriage to help our spouses get to Heaven. Give them the gift of pointing out how they’re fulfilling this great and holy task. Bonus points if you take an extra minute to get vulnerable and share where you’d like help next—taking care to refrain from criticism, whether or not they return the gesture.

13. Recall some of the other weddings you’ve attended since yours and discuss what you loved most about them. What did you think about witnessing marriages as a married couple, and how was it a different experience than when you were single? What family weddings have been the most fun to attend? These are family-building events, and it’s such a delight to think of your extended family in your anniversary musings.

14. Discuss lessons you’ve learned about marriage from the example of other couples. What are some qualities you admire in your parents’, grandparents’, friends’, or siblings’ marriages? With this in mind, what are some things that help you take pride in your marriage when chatting with these loved ones? And what do you hope to teach your own children, grandchildren, friends, and siblings about married life?

15. Create something together to help you mark the occasion. Can you work on a puzzle, a paint-by-numbers, a couple of simple paintings, or a collage together? It doesn’t have to be something you hang up or display, but it could be a fun project to share between just the two of you—and something to put in your box of mementos to make activity #4 more interesting next year.

5 Ways to Be More Vulnerable with Your Spouse

Research shows that vulnerability is key to strengthening a marriage, unlocking greater intimacy with your spouse, and feeling more secure in the most important relationship in your life. But it isn’t easy to open yourself up, even with the one you love the most. We all have trouble overcoming pride and exposing every part of ourselves to another person.

Someday, though, your spouse may be the one to bathe you or help you go to the restroom. Learn to see this as a beautiful sacrifice of service—not as an icky chore to be endured—right now. Because that’s the kind of closeness and self-giving that will get you joyfully through life together. You accomplish that by getting comfortable with being vulnerable.

  1. Ask for help.

Staying honest is a huge part of staying vulnerable in marriage. Healthy marriages don’t keep secrets.

It’s not easy to come to your spouse and say: “I’m not handling this well today.” It’s difficult to admit weakness to the person whose opinion and respect you value most. But it’s essential to feeling supported and loved by your spouse.

So, on difficult days, in tough trials, and even just when you’re fighting the worst cold of your life, set aside your pride and tell your spouse that you need some extra help. It’s not that you can’t do it—it’s just that you can’t do it alone. That’s the beauty of marriage: you shouldn’t do it alone.

And by the way, this isn’t just about needing an extra hand on chores or some time to unwind. Ask, too, for what you need emotionally: something they can do to show appreciation for you, or affection, or whatever area in which you need extra care.

  1. Keep trying to make each other laugh.

My husband and I don’t have the same sense of humor, so we don’t always laugh at each other’s jokes.

But laughter is good medicine. It’s a balm for tense conversations and stressful circumstances. So, when I’m feeling good and silly, I think up a joke that might tickle my husband and let it loose. Often, I just get a little chuckle for my effort, but sometimes it’s a big laugh—a big, validating laugh.

Trying to make someone laugh is an inherently vulnerable behavior. It implies trust (that our silliness won’t be mocked or rejected). It seeks approval. It boosts our self-confidence and it delights us to see our partner amused. A husband and wife who work to delight each other, even and especially in this small way, are a more bonded team.

  1. Go to bed at the same time.

It’s almost natural for a man and woman living their very busy, very grown-up lives to fall into habit. They divide tasks; they manage a calendar; they get through each day.

But are they working together? Or are they simply living together?

Complacency is dangerous, in part, because it’s so easy to find yourself in it without knowing how you got there. You might wake up one morning and realize you and your spouse haven’t spoken about anything beyond logistics or the children in weeks. You might realize one Friday evening, while your husband is out with friends and you’re relaxing at home, that you haven’t done something new together in months.

Date nights and deep conversation are important ways to dodge this trap. Another is prioritizing each other in your daily routines. You want to avoid becoming two adults living in the same house on their own schedules. To do that, you build a schedule together—and you are open with one another about what that schedule needs to look like.

Does this mean you can’t have a night or two each week to focus on your own passions and go to bed when you want? Of course not—and that can be a healthy outlet. But if you’re ending most of your days side by side with a kiss goodnight, you’re prioritizing intimacy and vulnerability.

  1. Resist the urge to get defensive in response to honesty.

Sometimes your spouse calls you out. Often, that perspective is helpful. But almost never is it pleasant to hear.

It could be that he’s holding you accountable for a broken promise or an incomplete task. Maybe she’s pointing out a bad habit you’ve discussed before, but fallen back into. There will be plenty of moments like these throughout your marriage.

It’s difficult to face these confrontations because we want to be superheroes for our families. We want to be good at everything we do for them. And yet, deep down, we know we aren’t good at everything—we know we’re far from perfect. It’s hard to face someone else’s acknowledgment of that fact.

So we resort to defense mechanisms: “I don’t know what you’re talking about” or “You’re not understanding me” or “I’m sorry you feel that way.” But these things don’t help. They build walls that are hard to break down.

Try very hard to listen instead of lay bricks when your spouse approaches you with a difficult truth. It’s hard to let them open that perceived wound and accept their criticism, but you can’t heal what you refuse to see.

  1. Don’t prioritize “mystery” in your marriage.

Real talk: I don’t like using the toilet or passing gas or inspecting my face for blemishes in front of my husband. Privacy is important to me in these contexts.

That’s not true for everyone, and many comfort levels are okay. What’s not healthy, though, is forcing a sense of “mystery” into your marriage. Are modesty, privacy, and hygiene preferences among your rights, married or not? Absolutely. But these aren’t the same as hiding what’s raw and human about you from your spouse in the interest of “keeping the mystery alive.”

Don’t get me wrong: spontaneity and surprise are important for a happy marriage. You can embrace those by sharing no-reason gifts or conversation prompts, exploring new locations together, and staying curious about one another.

But when you’re suffering or recovering from an illness, experiencing the less-than-glamorous details of childbirth and postpartum recovery, or trying to get a better handle on your health, you deserve to have a partner by your side—someone who loves you, down to every last bit, and isn’t squeamish about it. So don’t hide yourself. Don’t be ashamed.

Why I Hate/Like/Love NFP after Miscarriage

I’ve said before that my husband and I practice natural family planning (NFP) and it brings us closer together. Boy has that perspective turned upside down (and back again) over the last 12 months.

Before & After

It wasn’t always hard. For a long time, it was just plain easy.

In the early years of our marriage, NFP gave me the tools to understand my body. It empowered me to embrace my natural functioning and to admire the efficiency and the beauty of the female body. And it helped my husband and me respect that nature very deeply—to work with it instead of fighting against it. It made us value one another more.

When we wanted to start trying for a baby, the knowledge we had from using NFP for so long made it blessedly easy. And after we had our first child, it helped me see how my body recovered and how my fertility affected so many other components of my daily feelings and physiological experiences. We successfully used NFP to space our pregnancies. The postpartum period isn’t easy for so many reasons, and the complexity of managing NFP during that time is one of them—but we came out just fine.

It was after my son was born that things got trickier. The postpartum hormones hit me hard that time, and I found it difficult to connect with my husband—I felt so much more like a mother and less like a wife. Between those feelings and some other circumstances, NFP was a point of frustration between us. We fought against it and wished we could control it. But, of course, we couldn’t. That’s not how it works.

Even then, NFP did provide structure where we needed it. It gave us accountability and guidelines that helped us improve and do better for one another. And it took off some of the pressure we were putting on ourselves, on things that we gave too much or too little importance.

But, like many aspects of my life, my perspective on NFP was divided into a Before and an After by our miscarriages.

Before we lost our babies, NFP was a sometimes challenging, but overall very rewarding pursuit.

After we lost our babies, if only for a while, NFP was a difficult reality I struggled not to resent.

When the Mind and the Body Disagree

It was painful to hear my OBGYN try to tell me that my pregnancy tests might’ve been “false positives” when I had my first loss. NFP made it painful because I knew, very intimately, how my body worked and that I’d conceived that cycle.

It was painful to watch my body go right back to normal after that experience, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. (Although it was also a bit of a relief, not living in limbo.)

The next time we conceived, it was painful to see 8 weeks of healthy pregnancy go down the drain when the first warning signs appeared. And it crushed us to say goodbye to those babies, too.

Years of charting and researching fertility burdened me with the knowledge that there was, very likely, something wrong with me that led to our losses. And when I sent my charts to my NFP instructor, she confirmed that something was off. Something I missed. Something I felt I should’ve seen as a warning. Something that told me I failed to protect my babies.

Then, months of charting and seeing no improvement made me resentful of my body and NFP. There were days I wished for blissful ignorance, but at the same time, I was petrified of doing something wrong and putting more babies—not to mention my husband and myself—at risk of another miscarriage. Practicing NFP was excruciating, but the alternative—throwing caution to the wind—was unthinkable. It was an incredibly stressful place to be.

After I saw a NaproTechnology doctor—someone specially trained in natural, life-affirming treatments for infertility and miscarriage, and familiar with the Creighton method of fertility charting—and started supplementing, my cycles did improve. I was happy to see it—happy to see our odds of a healthy pregnancy becoming stronger again. But it was also a painful reminder that my body wasn’t doing it right on its own anymore.

Choosing Beauty

Now that the grief isn’t so fresh and we’re making strides toward healthier fertility, it’s easier to see the positive aspects of NFP again. I know that I’m fortunate to have had this knowledge and these resources, so that we could be empowered to spot a problem and work to resolve it rather than keep trying and failing on our own.

Empowerment isn’t easy. It’s not a hand-out and it isn’t a magic wand that makes taking the reins on life simple. Ignorance is easy—but it’s also empty. Empowerment is what gives us the energy and the skills to do what is right, effective, and good. But that’s a lot of responsibility, and sometimes the weight of it can be so very heavy.

For now, my husband and I are trying to see NFP like we’re trying to see life these days: as a gift that can’t be taken for granted, that must be enjoyed moment by moment, that is out of our control but within our capacity to manage together.

If you’ve experienced a loss, please don’t lose hope. Please hang on, with every last bit of strength you have, to the promise of renewal and understanding and recovery. Have faith, do your best, and love your family. Everything else will follow.

Why It’s Gotten Harder to Be A Good Wife

I’ve always (even before I had any business forming an educated opinion on such things) thought that, in the context of a family, a husband and wife must prioritize their marriage above all else.

A marriage is the foundation of a family. Even once children come into the picture and demand (and deserve) so much time, love, and energy, Mom and Dad can’t lose touch with one another in the busyness of everyday living. They must work well together as a team to ensure the happiest home for those children, and they must remain close even after their children leave the nest.

Actually being married and having babies has taught me that this really is the best path toward a happy, fulfilled family. It’s also taught me that, some days, it’s a lot harder than I expected it to be.

Changing Seasons

My husband and I have been together for a long time. Since we were high school sweethearts, many of those years were spent before marriage and kids came along. I won’t say those years were easy, but I will say that the blind optimism of young love did us a few favors. When you’re right for each other, young, and susceptible to fairy tales, it’s very possible to stubbornly forge through a struggle simply because you’re confident “happily ever after” is just over the horizon.

Our newlywed years were joyful. It was a long-awaited privilege to wake up together each morning and come home to each other at night. And it was easy to take on the world together.

When our first child was born and I felt the shock of taking on a new identity, my husband was my resting place. He gave me confidence and reassurance when I was unsure of myself. His fatherhood made my motherhood manageable. We had no problem tackling parenthood as a team, and so we had no problem nurturing our marriage just as diligently as we nurtured our beautiful daughter.

I’m not proud to say this, but when our second was born, that story was different for me.

Physical, Emotional, and Spiritual Effort

I’ve tried so hard to understand this struggle in order to resolve it, and it’s very difficult to pin down. But I’m going to try.

When my first was born, I had a period of confusion. I knew motherhood was in my bones—I knew it was what I was meant to do. But that didn’t mean it was automatic or easy to absorb that new part of my identity. My thoughts were suddenly dominated by a tiny person and how to order every one of my waking moments around her needs. For a time, I had trouble grasping what part of “me” was left after so much of my focus went into motherhood.

My husband helped me feel like the “me” that I recognized. Our marriage was an anchor to the “before kids” part of our life, and I needed that to stay grounded as I navigated our new normal. After a few months, we all settled in quite happily.

Still, as we prepared for our second to be born, I was thinking this same thing was going to happen: that I would have to learn all over again how to be a mom.

It turned out not to be quite so earth-shattering. My soul is happy and fulfilled as a mother, and I’ve settled into that identity well enough that adding a second child meant adjusting routines and habits, sure, but not another reinvention of myself. It was a happy surprise.

However, those new habits and routines did take a lot of physical energy, and the adjustment took plenty of emotional energy, too. It’s difficult to hear two children screaming for you when you can only lift and comfort one at a time. The sleep exhaustion that comes with a baby who dislikes falling asleep plus a toddler who’s not feeling well is profound. The list goes on.

So while I felt more at home becoming a mother of two than I did becoming a mom of one, I was physically and emotionally drained by caring for two kiddos. It is hard. I am generally happy, but I am tired.

As a result, when both kiddos were finally, (relatively) reliably asleep come 10:00 p.m. and I had my first chance of the day to do something without needing to cater to them first, all I wanted to do was cater to me. What energy I had left I wanted to hoard for myself. I didn’t want to use it up by asking my husband how his day was or helping him with a project.

Now, naturally, there’s going to be some period of survival after a baby is born. It’s a time to do what you can, set aside what you must, and learn to be okay with that. You make sacrifices. You must. But that doesn’t give me permission to be selfish with every spare minute. I am part of something bigger than myself, and I can’t function as an island—nor should I expect my husband to be satisfied with life on an altogether different island.

Give and Take

It may be unavoidable that our needs take a backseat to the demands of two small children, but it’s not unavoidable that one spouse neglects another completely. And sometimes, that’s what I did.

My husband, being the kind and attentive man that he is, saw that something was wrong. He saw that I was not reaching out, and he often thought that was a reflection on him: You are distant, which means you are unhappy, which means I’m doing something wrong. But it wasn’t about him; it was on me.

Over time, I learned how to do simple things—like ask for help (duh), set aside some me-time before the kids go to bed, and pursue new hobbies—that keep my energy bank full enough to share more with him. He’s been there at every turn to do whatever I ask of him; in fact, even as I was paying him very little personal attention, he was always thirsty for ways to make my life easier and more comfortable. That’s the kind of guy I married.

I’m still working on this and am nowhere near as good as I should be (even though the physical demands have lessened as the kids have gotten incrementally older and more independent, I’ve formed some bad habits that are difficult to break). But I’m getting there.

Thoughts on Unconditional Love

The biggest thing I’ve learned, I think, is that unconditional love may permeate a family, but it can’t be the backbone of a family. The backbone is made of effort and giving and trying. Backbones are hard, and they should be—they keep us upright. Love is soft, and it should be. It keeps us warm.

unconditional love quote

My children believe that my love is unconditional in a very real sense. They don’t question whether I will feed them, change their diapers, or be there to hug them when they wake up. A comfortable home and toys to play with are simply accepted parts of their environment. When they misbehave, they know that I will forgive them and, once any discipline is over, life will go on as if nothing is changed—because nothing has changed, really. They know that they can do whatever things their beautiful little minds invent, and I will be there to guide them through it. That is the innocence of a child. All the things into which I put so much work and prayer are taken for granted, and that’s okay.

My husband believes that my love is unconditional in a very different way. He doesn’t question whether I’ll be by his side because I’ve made vows with him, and I’ve proven my devotion in the way I’ve treated him. He counts our happy home among his greatest blessings—it’s something he knows is a gift made by us and by God. When we argue, we find room to forgive and amend our ways—and he is grateful for my doing so because he knows that I make a choice to do it, for his sake and for our family. He recognizes and appreciates my love for him at least partly because he knows that life would be so different without it. He feels it because I give it to him, not simply because it exists.

Children know the love of their parents because it is a fact of life. It is in the order of things, which they know deep down in their souls long before they could ever recognize that knowing. They know they are loved because there is simply nothing else to know.

Spouses know their love for each other because they have chosen each other: their marriage is an order of things that they have created and committed themselves to fully, without exception. They know they are loved because they receive that love as a gift.

As long as I can preserve that innocence for my children in these formative years (by giving them my best as frequently as humanly possible), they easily forgive the occasional loss of patience or the moments I need to rest instead of play. They are confident in my unconditional love because I am their mother, and that is all they need to know.

For my husband, though (and this is true for me, too), feeling loved isn’t that simple. He feels my love when I choose him: when I choose to ask him about his day or help him with a project or even just express my desire to be near him. He is confident in my unconditional love because I continuously prove that it is here for him, offering it again and again by living out my vows.

What My High School Sweetheart Taught Me About Love

My husband and I are high school sweethearts. We are thankful every day for the fact that we got to be each other’s first everything. We love that we grew up together and share more than a decade of memories already. And we have said more than once that God put us in each other’s lives early for plenty of good reasons—not least that we would both be terrible at dating.

In fact, sometimes we were terrible at dating—while we were dating each other. We weren’t always smart or responsible. We didn’t always treat each other well. Things were harder than they should’ve been for a while. We were selfish, silly, and ignorant on more than one occasion. But even though some of those memories are painful now, I’m thankful for them, too. Because they taught me all of this.

No one, at any point in life, is perfect. People aren’t unicorns.

Thanks to years of hard work and happy love, my marriage is strong. The soundness of my relationship with my husband is a permanent, comforting fixture in my life. We rarely fight (although we certainly bicker). We understand each other. We know each other so well that there is simply no doubt. Already, we’ve had half our lives to fall in love over and over.

But neither of us is perfect, and we are still very different from one another.

When he eats, it sounds (to me) like a water buffalo chewing mud. When I insist we each get our own meals when we eat out instead of agreeing to share one (even though we’ll never finish both entrees), it makes no sense to him. I can’t stand how he wants to listen to talk radio all the time. He is somewhat disturbed by my affinity for psychologically dramatic TV, movies, and books.

His opinions on the environment sometimes ruffle my feathers. My methods for quiet advocacy of my faith and morals sometimes aggravate him. Our minds work in vastly different ways.

In many ways, we don’t—and never did—hit many of the checkboxes on one another’s “list of desirable qualities in a spouse.” Before we started dating, I pictured myself with an artsy/alternative guy who would never condone hunting and would buy me flowers every day. He probably pictured himself with an athletic academic who loved physics and would talk politics for fun.

But you know what? Lists change. My old list sucked. My new list starts with “His name is Erik” and ends with “He makes me love myself almost as much as he loves me.”

You absolutely must fight fair.

Our first few years together were not easy. We swung on a pendulum between blissfully spending all our time together and fighting like cats and dogs at the slightest missteps. As we learned to handle our own maturing minds, bodies, and personalities, we also had to handle each other’s—and to be forgiving and intentional throughout that period of growth. It was hard. We failed a lot.

Looking back, we know that we wouldn’t tolerate each other’s behavior from back then if we were faced with it right now. We needed to be together as teenagers because only teenagers are stubborn and strong-willed enough to cling to what we wanted as tightly as we did then.

What helped was establishing some ground rules for fighting. Here are a few:

  • Do not yell at each other.
  • Never curse at or insult each other.
  • Always say “I love you” when you say goodbye or goodnight, no matter how you’re feeling.
  • If one person needs time to cool off, they should ask for it respectfully and the other needs to respect it.
  • When you say you’re sorry, mean it—and do something to fix whatever you did wrong.
  • Do not bring up past mistakes or hold grudges.
  • Don’t generalize; it’s not fair or honest.

It’s a long list (and that’s not everything). We don’t always follow them perfectly, but once we started making a real effort, our arguments became fairer, more productive, and less frequent. It kept us together.

The person you love should push you forward (and help you get there).

“Good enough” shouldn’t exist in a healthy relationship. That’s how you get stagnant and stop growing. For me, the goal of marriage is to be comfortable, but never bored—to be at ease with your spouse, so much so that encouraging one another to keep improving and growing is a natural and positive process instead of a stressful one.

My husband pushed me to work harder in school, and my work ethic now is so much better for it. I pushed him to be more forgiving, and he’s a gentler man for that. We push each other to be better parents, better spouses, and better people. We have high standards for ourselves and each other. While we are compassionate in the face of failure, we always expect each other to keep moving. And we are always there to walk the path forward, together.

Two people in a serious relationship should never be hesitant to call out a mistake, voice a concern, or talk about the future. These can be some of the most fruitful conversations you’ll ever have with your significant other or spouse. They should not be shielded by fear or shame, and you should never feel like you need to walk on eggshells around the person you love.

Happiness is made when respect is shared and the self is given.

Bringing all of this together are two core concepts: respect and generosity. For a relationship to be long-lasting, healthy, and positive, both people must give one another an abundance of respect and an abundance of themselves. You need to take on an “us” mindset instead of an “I” mindset. This is important while dating, but it’s essential in marriage.

Because we were teenagers, it was very tricky for my husband and I to focus on giving respect instead of demanding it early in our relationship. We were easily hurt, but we hurt easily, too. When you lose track of how you’re treating someone because you’re waiting for them to make some change or move to “prove” that they deserve your respect, you lose yourself—and you lose them, too. Love needs respect.

In marriage, we are privileged to offer a full gift of self to our spouse. We set aside our selfish ways in favor of living as a couple, ‘til death do us part. Of course, we’re not stainless—I often fail to give my time as selflessly as I could, or to keep my patience, or to accept a change in plans because my husband’s needs have changed. But I try. And letting go of the self is a crucial first step toward a strong and cooperative marriage. Spouses are inspired by one another’s gifts and eager to return that love. It’s a happy cycle.

There are fine lines everywhere.

Finally, I think it’s important for everyone in a relationship to know that love is grey—it isn’t black or white. Each of us requires something special to feel fulfilled in a relationship. Each of us tolerates differences in our own way. And each of us deserves respect and generosity as a matter of course. So, as you’re dating and deciding on whether the person beside you is worth your whole life, it’s important to be honest and demanding about your needs, with yourself and your partner.

Ultimately, fidelity to your beloved, authenticity with yourself, and humility before God will all lead to a happy life and a happy relationship. It can be tricky to balance all three, but that’s okay. That’s the adventure. If we simply live it and are kind along the way (to ourselves and the people at our side), we’ll come out just fine.

How Motherhood Changed Me as a Wife

Every day I wonder at the tiniest things I manage to achieve during my infant daughter’s naps. Restocked on groceries? Vacuumed? Cycled a load of laundry? Did the dishes? Tidied up a room? Made dinner? Showered? Accomplishing two of those tasks before bedtime is a modest success. Pick any three and my day is made. Four or more done in one day counts as a miracle.

Before our daughter was born, I was the wife who was capable of accomplishing all of those things around a 9-hour work day and 3-hour commute (when I felt like it), any day of the week. My husband would help if I asked him, but such chores were manageable on my own—he had his own responsibilities, after all.

Things started to change almost as soon as I got pregnant. Homemade dinners went out the window with my appetite in the first trimester; vacuuming became just plain exhausting in the third. And doing the dishes felt rather unimportant on days I felt like crying for no apparent reason.

“I’m sorry,” I told my husband countless times. “Pregnancy makes me the worst wife ever.”

He, of course, always insisted that wasn’t true. He was being generous—motherhood has made me much worse at these everyday tasks. (You should see my house on any given Thursday when we’re not expecting company. Yikes.)

On the flipside, pregnancy made him an even better husband than ever. He fed me ridiculous meals when I only had an appetite for one specific thing; he helped me up the stairs when my hips locked up; he woke up every time I got out of bed in the middle of the night to make sure I was okay; he picked up the slack I dropped on housework, on top of working overtime on his own household duties (like home improvements and repairs that would make us more comfortable when our daughter arrived).

11952922_10207345728862034_823920636878363952_o

He went to every doctor appointment with me, attended every class, and listened to the intricacies of childbirth. When I cried because our baby was breech at our 34-week appointment and I was scared of scheduling a c-section, he comforted me. When I cried four weeks later because my doctor said we had to be induced and it all just felt so sudden, he reassured me everything would be okay. And when I cried because the pain of labor just wore me out, he made me feel stronger.

So, every day for the last 11 months I’ve asked myself the same question: how would I do this without him? How could I become a mom with a happy, healthy baby who loves her, if I wasn’t already a wife with a wonderful husband who is always, always helping?

I know there are many mothers and fathers out there who manage to parent their children all on their own, and they have my immense respect. It is an impossibly difficult role to fill alone.

Experiencing this miraculous transition into motherhood has made it so obvious to me why parenthood was meant to follow marriage. There is something divine to being a parent; something that goes beyond our simple capacities for patience and strength and emotion as humans. And that something becomes so obvious when I see my husband cuddling our daughter for a nap, or making her laugh, or comforting her when she’s crying. It becomes obvious when I’ve reached the end of my rope and he comes home from a long day at work, ready and willing to take over for me. It becomes obvious when we’re both overcome with joy to see her smile or coo or learn something new.

So now, while we’re busy baby-talking and wiping up poo, the floors go unvacuumed, the dishes go undone, and the stove goes unwiped. The laundry might get washed, but only out of sheer necessity, and only to sit in a basket (possibly unfolded) on our bedroom floor for a week.

But I think I’m finally convincing myself that all this undone housework doesn’t make me a bad wife. Instead, it makes me a good mom. A mom who’s ready to drop what I’m doing to cuddle my daughter when she’s running a slight fever after her first shots. A mom who keeps herself sane and happy by reading or blogging or relaxing with Netflix during some of those daytime naps, instead of fretting over petty chores that can wait another day. A mom who sees perfection in her daughter’s happy face instead of a spotless house, and spends an extra 20 minutes talking to the beautiful girl with that happy face instead of setting her down so I can finish cleaning the kitchen. And being a good mom makes me a better wife.

There is, of course, a fine line between justifiable prioritization and neglect. I can’t just sit on the couch all day, every day—and I still take pride in a happy home, which means ensuring that home is comfortable and reasonably kept. Likewise, keeping a happy marriage requires attention and special devotion. Only so much grown-up interaction can happen around a nursing infant who cries if you’re not rocking her a certain way. That means that I have to be able to lean on my husband for his help without dumping everything on him as soon as I lose my patience, and it means spending time with just the two of us on a regular basis.

Knowing all this, it’s easy to see how becoming a mom has changed how I fill my role as a wife. Motherhood makes me a better wife with a messier house, a weepier disposition, and an even more wonderful husband. So, overall, life is pretty good.

5 Places the Time Goes When You’re a New Mom

Scenario 1: Suddenly it’s been 3 minutes and there are two lines on that test, and the two weeks I’ve been waiting for this moment hardly even existed.

Scenario 2: That surreal day of labor and push, push, push! and first meetings was 2 months ago, and we feel like she’s been here all our lives.

It’s 2016. Where has the time gone? For me, 2015 was a big, wonderful, crazy ball of blazing-fast new experiences. And I think I must’ve asked myself that question a few million times.

So when I really think through it, I can follow the minutes down into these wormholes:

1. Into your body.

I have this theory that time is physically absorbed into your bloodstream. This is how aging happens. And how, when you’re pregnant, every day gets a little bit tougher (the last few weeks are the craziest) and yet spins by a little bit faster.

It’s because your womb is filling up with 9 months of new life. That means all those extra calories you’re consuming, the extra water you’re drinking every hour, and the all-encompassing thoughts of “I’m carrying a baby around with me right now. How is this a thing?” are adding up. The end result is a brand new baby who is much greater than the sum of all those days. Suddenly the last 9 months—which stretched out endlessly in front of you at the beginning—are behind you in the blink of an eye.

(I’m sure it’s also how moms “forget” the work of labor and, soon enough, look forward to a chance to do it all over again.)

Sammy&Erik-101

2. To the dogs.

Wasted time is wasted life. For the first few weeks of a new baby’s life, it’s vital for Mom and Dad to do absolutely nothing they don’t want to with the time between feedings. Two hours can pass by too quickly, and when you’ve got a newborn at home, sleeping is a wonderful answer to the “Where has the time gone?” question.

Fast forward a few months, though, and I can’t always forgive myself those wasted hours. Maybelle is sleeping well at night; I should be adulting during the day. If all of those 2-4 hour blocks are spent on nothing much more than Netflix and the couch, it’s my own fault. But if they’re spent on laundry, errands, and maybe blogging a little here and there? That’s a win.

3. Over the rainbow.

Here’s another cliché for you: hindsight is 20-20. Want another? The grass is always greener on the other side. Clichés are clichéd for a reason, and that reason is that they’re almost always true.

When you’re stuck in the middle of an ultra-fussy growth spurt, and suddenly your easygoing baby is inconsolable for hours at a time, and you’re wondering why you have to relearn to be a mom every single day because what worked yesterday isn’t doing the job today, you look back on the last easy week with nostalgic longing. I catch myself doing this all the time. What happened to my happy baby? Why can’t tonight be like last night?

But here’s the thing: Maybelle is the product of every growth spurt’s progress. When the last one was over, she started smiling and cooing at funny faces. The one before that left her opening her eyes to the world, instead of staying cozied up in her own dreams all the time. So what will the end of this growth spurt bring? Being a mom has taught me that no minute spent embracing this moment—even if you’re also looking forward to the next—is wasted.

Even the tougher minutes are worth your love and attention right now. Enjoy them if you can, endure them no matter what, and know that yesterday wasn’t objectively better just because it was easier.

4. Onto the internet (and, hopefully, some paper).

The absurd procrastinator in me is so, so thankful for smartphones and Instagram. If I raised my own family before this century—when parents had to remember cameras, their associated batteries and film/memory cards, getting the resulting images printed, and then sharing those prints with their extended families—I’d be a hot mess of forgotten moments and missed photo opportunities. In that way, the instant gratification and real-time results of social media are a blessing.

Still, nothing beats a thoughtfully composed, physical photo album or a well-documented baby book. And that’s something I need to get better at.

The reality of parenting is that you experience every moment thinking, “Wow, I will never forget this milestone!”—and then, a week later, you can’t quite recall the exact tone of voice that inspired that first smile in your little one. So don’t be ashamed and don’t lose those memories: document everything, and share the moments that fill your heart to bursting. You’ll be glad you did.

5. Into your family.

All that time I spent fretting over what I did (or didn’t) eat and drink, what vitamins I took and when, how I clocked in my exercise—all of that resulted in a healthy, happy baby born at term. The time my husband spent fixing up little things in our house, keeping me happy and comfortable during the pregnancy, and looking forward to fatherhood resulted in a wonderful foundation for our growing family. And the time we spent enjoying each other’s company—just the two of us—while we still could resulted in a stronger, happier marriage and a partnership that has saved us both more than once.

The time we share with others results in the most growth. When I obsess over myself for too long, that’s when my anxiety jumps, my energy plummets, and my confidence wavers. But when I focus on making my husband as happy as he makes me, helping my baby grow, and giving my family the best chance for bliss, that’s when we all come out on top.

 

The question only gets bigger from here. In 2015, my husband and I decided started trying for a baby, learned we were expecting our first child, enjoyed a healthy pregnancy, welcomed our daughter into the world, and began learning how to be parents during her first two months of life outside the womb. In sixteen years, I know we’ll look at her and wonder when this little baby disappeared and a young adult began to emerge.

Here’s the funny thing about life: the bigger the milestones, the smaller the clock. Love them—and live them—while you can.

(Photo taken by Roni Rose Photography of Huntley, IL. Roni and her husband are magicians with cameras; check them out!)

Top Five Reasons Marital Sex is the Only Sex You Need

Pop culture makes casual sex look easy and expected. When you’re watching a romantic comedy, the turning point in a couple’s budding relationship is usually their first sexual encounter. It isn’t them getting to know each other, learning what they have in common, or just plain deciding to “go steady.” It’s getting into bed—as if that proves something.

But sex was designed to be something meaningful and productive between a close, committed husband and wife. It was designed to be at least as much about giving as it is about receiving; as much about pleasing as it is about being pleased; and much more about love than it is about lust.

Instead of recognizing the true beauty of it, we’ve decided, as a society, to focus on its primal side. The thing is, lust and animalism don’t make us human. Love does.

You are more than a hook-up—more than “that girl” or “that guy” from college, the bar, or spring break. You are the girl or the guy your future spouse is looking for. And you deserve real, one-of-a-kind, wouldn’t-trade-it intimacy with that person who will love you more than anything else in the world.

So here are my top five (though, of course, there are many more) reasons for keeping sex in marriage.

5. Security trumps safety every time.

Safety: The condition of being protected from danger or injury.

Security: The state of being free from danger or threat.

One of those is reactive, and the other is proactive. Safety means shielding oneself from danger; security means never encountering danger in the first place.

Marriage is all about security, and marital sex is no different. A man and woman who are fully committed to one another and practice the virtues of true marriage will not put each other in any kind of sexual danger. If both spouses have been faithful all along, STDs become a moot point. Because they share the height of trust, they learn each other’s likes and dislikes, and would never be hurtful. Pregnancy—which can be easily delayed, if they choose—is not a scare in a healthy marriage; it’s a blessing. There will be no heartbreak or loneliness because neither spouse can break the union. There is no fear of judgment.

In short, sex in a healthy, happy marriage is free from risk. It is secure in every way.

4. We all deserve to be someone’s other half—not just one of any number of “partners.”

Neither men nor women are toys to be played with and forgotten, or vessels to be filled and emptied. We are all worthy of finding and clinging to someone who values us as a life partner. You are worth much more than someone else’s pleasure. You are worth devotion, commitment, fidelity, and years and years of happiness.

Even long-term relationships are subject to that “-term.” That’s not permanence or forever. That’s “for now.” Even if it adds up to many years of your life, some part of you—and the people around you—questions when it might end. I don’t mean to say those years aren’t valuable—they can be some of the most meaningful of your life. The eight years my husband and I were together before marriage were wonderful. The difference is that those were years of my life. These are years of our life. Our wedding day started a new forever for us.

If you take marriage seriously and practice it accordingly, there is nothing comparable to the union of husband and wife. Marriage is more than a new chapter: it is a change in your identity. It is a full gift of self and a full reception of your spouse. The years you spent together beforehand were temporary. The years afterward are forever.

3. Your body is a temple. And you both know it.

Sex is pleasurable for a reason. There’s nothing sinful about that. It is meant to be that way. The beautiful thing about marital sex is that you already know the unrelenting love is there; you both give and receive it all the time, day and night. When you know that to be true, sex is natural, easygoing, and unashamed.

There is this awful assumption that sex in marriage must be boring. How sad for those couples, and for the people who think it’s going to be that way and so waste their time sleeping around.

Sharing this part of you with just one person means constant respect and continuous learning. There is infinite opportunity to try new things, understand each other’s preferences, and make it all feel easy. You never need to feel self-conscious or ashamed, and neither does your spouse. There’s nothing dull about that.

2. It isn’t everything.

Some days you want to wear sweats and not wash your hair. Sometimes you put off doing the laundry for too long, and you’ve got nothing left but your ugly underwear. Sometimes you’re just not in the mood. We all have busy, off, stressful, or uncomfortable days.

No matter the reason, a comfortable, loving marriage means neither of you feels obligated to perform, impress, or make yourself available. You have your whole lives to enjoy each other. So when sex isn’t on the menu, a good cuddle, a game, or a meaningful conversation will do the trick, too.

1. It is everything.

Marital sex is a full giving of self, a full receiving of your spouse, a chance to let go, a chance to act, a reason to relax, a reason to excite. It’s not about impressing someone, seeking satisfaction, making a good story for your friends, proving your love, or hoping the object of your desire will return your affection. It isn’t about winning, it’s never a loss, and it’s always shared equally.

There aren’t words to express what two people share through sex. Marriage makes that a wonderful thing; not a risky, confusing, or potentially regrettable one. Marital sex never becomes a wedge that drives you apart, or breaks your heart. It makes your relationship stronger, not weirder, and brings you closer.

Above all, we define marriage as a sacred and sacramental union, and marital sex is the closest we can get to physically understanding what that means.

 

You deserve to be loved and respected in the most meaningful way, because you are worthy of that recognition and dedication. When people say, “If they love you, they’ll wait,” it’s true. They mean it. Because sex isn’t just for fun, it’s not everything, and it won’t get you the respect or attention you deserve on its own.

It is a gift of self that can’t be taken back, and it will be the most precious gift you can give to your future spouse—your soulmate. You are a unique gift all your own, and the recipient of another. Stay true to that. Don’t give yourself up.

Wedding Rings II