When we talk about marriage, we use phrases like “happily ever after,” but life isn’t always happy. There are plenty of times in a relationship marked with sunshine and clear waters, but the truth is that no one leaves this Earth without having to cross turbulent seas.
Sometimes, two people who are truly meant for each other will face the most brutal battles. Not because they are wrong for each other. But because the world will test everything real. Love like that doesn’t come easy. Love is built through both joy and pain. Distance. Misunderstandings. Growth. But if they can hold on through the chaos and choose each other over and over again, they’ll find something most people only dream of. A love that didn’t just survive the storm, but it is unbreakable because of it.
Sometimes you hear love stories about how a partner saved them from a dark place or showed up in their life at precisely the right time. That isn’t Kody and my story. Kody and I found each other when we were both happy and whole, living our lives in a way that we were perfectly content to live independently for the foreseeable future. We met, enjoyed each other’s company, and couldn’t deny that we shared core values. We both decided that choosing each other was worth a shot, so we moved to a town with no family ties and took a gamble on each other. Our love has never been the ‘electric chemistry – set my soul ablaze’ type of love. It’s been a love that has grown through friendship, laughter, faith, hardships, illness, and teamwork.
Deciding to start a family was the best decision we ever made, but no one warned us about the toll it takes on your marriage. We were prepared for postpartum, daycare bills, and diaper changes, but not a complete overhaul of our marriage. During the first weeks after we brought Marlow home, I fell so deeply in love with the version of Kody as a Father. It was wonderful, and still is. Nothing makes me smile like watching Kody tickle Marlow on the floor as she repeats ‘again, again, again’ through giggles. As the nights turned sleepless and the days continued, I came to understand how marriages can erode quietly and gradually after the baby arrives. Our love never faded, but it became easier to snap at one another, while the other partner is too fatigued to speak back, so they shut down. The house seemed loud, but the marriage was quiet. Identifies shifted; I felt invisible, and Kody felt replaced. Emotions drifted apart as conversations were reduced to schedules and checklists. There became no time for spontaneous weekend trips, movie nights, or relaxation. We went from partners to co-parents, trying not to drown. Fortunately, we realized this period of our marriage and love together was a more challenging transition than we anticipated, and no matter what, we weren’t going to walk away. This wasn’t my perception; this was our vow to each other. We reminded each other that we are a team, repeatedly. The discussions would happen during late-night “we’re doing okay” pep talks while folding laundry. We began to accept that one partner might contribute 97% of the effort, while the other puts in 3% at the end of the workday, even though we were both tired, tapped out, and running on fumes. We choose to give each other grace, but most importantly, we choose each other.
Going from two to a family of three was a challenging transition, but it was a transition we both agreed to. We both had a significant stake in the scenario. We were raising our newborn into a toddler. As you learn and grow, so does your child, and your marriage evolves or erodes. For us, it becomes easier, and we have found a way to evolve. However, death, losing a parent, that isn’t something you plan for. You don’t get to choose when you bury your Father. Kody and I have both now buried our Dads. It’s a type of suffering you feel independently, but unfortunately, the suffering seeps out of you like sweat and affects those closest to you.
There is no elegant way to put on paper how Kody has suffered the loss of my Dad this last spring. Kody personally lost a friend, a father-in-law, and the Papa of his children. It has resurfaced emotions and grief of losing his own Dad unexpectedly six years ago. I could tell Kody took my Dad’s death hard for multiple reasons, but he rarely showed it because I was the one struggling with the loss at such a deep level. He showed it through the steady presence of never ignoring my needs or emotions. The quiet comments, “It hurts me to see you hurt,” and “I wish so much I could take this pain away.” Kody showed up in all the ways he knew how: spending long weekends at home with Marlow while I made solo trips back to Central Montana, spending three weekends straight in the woodshop perfecting my Dad’s urn, and offering a steady hand across the covers when I’d jolt awake, soaked in sweat from nightmares. Kody has walked this journey with me. He has held me when I was drowning and built a boat to get me to shore.
Love is easy when it’s good. When you’re sitting on a rooftop bar or binge-watching Harry Potter and drinking Butter Beers in the Fall on a Saturday evening – anyone can fall in love through that. Everyone looks good in the honeymoon phase. Anyone can laugh with you on a vacation, while eating overpriced sushi, and make appealing posts on Instagram. That’s not the test. The test is, who are they when tragedy actually shows up? When the unexpected happens. When the paycheck doesn’t stretch. When one of you gets sick and the illness doesn’t go away. When you bury a parent and the grief hits so hard, you don’t know what to do. When you’re staring at the mortgage and wondering whose car you’ll sell first, that’s when forever actually happens. Who’s standing with you when you’re in the ER at three in the morning? Who’s steady when your world isn’t? Who looks at you in your worst moment? The broken, exhausted, ugly cry version of you, and still chooses you. The one who makes the bad things bearable, not the one who makes the good things better. You’d better pick someone you can sit in the fire with because life guarantees suffering.
My point is this: find someone who loves you so completely, who you love equally as much, so that when bad times come, you can hold each other together when it feels as if everything else is falling apart.