When the Honeymoon is Over

 Long before I was married or even old enough to get married, I had heard the expression, “Now the honeymoon  is over.” This, of course, refers to the work part of marriage, the part that is left after the bubbly feeling has diminished. For some, this realization will slap them shockingly across the face a mere week or two, or perhaps just a few months after those vows are spoken and the smiles on those memorial photographs brazenly inform the gazer that there will never be a cloud in the sky. Those smiles lie, by the way, hence the expression.

 I think my “honeymoon state” lasted for the whole first year. Sure, we had our moments and our fights, but for the most part life was good. This may be a result of being married so shortly after my husband and I met. Some might say it was a whirlwind romance, but I don’t really agree. I had been prepared for marriage from a very young age, I had been taught that marriage is sacred, that it’s for life, you can’t just quit when a little rough weather blows in. As a daily example, I had my parents who had been married for twenty-four years. They had been through some very hard times and rough places yet stood strong against the odds, and furthermore, I could tell they genuinely loved each.

 My husband and I met in July of 2006 and we were married December 23, 2006. His parents had also been married over twenty years before later getting divorced, so he had a strong belief in marriage, it’s seriousness, and the work that must be put into it. Neither of us had any delusions that it would be all roses and rainbows, but I would be lying if I said we didn’t have stars in our eyes when we looked at each other. He was the wonderful man I had dreamed of for literally years and I was the girl for him. We felt comfortable with each other from day one, and even with a strict policy of honesty that unveiled both the good and the dirty little secrets, we were head over heels for each other.

 Our first year of marriage presented very little conflict in our relationship. We had minimal obligations, no house, just an old hand me down car, we both worked so there was enough money to pay the bills and plenty left over to spend on eating out and going out with friends just about every night. We were starting completely from scratch. We thought that some day we would like to have our own house and kids and the white picket fence, so to speak, but for the time being what we had was enough. It didn’t matter that we were living with room-mates in a tiny apartment or that we really didn’t have any possessions or savings, we were crazy about each other, that was all that mattered.

 About six or seven months in, we decided to try to build more of an adult life and less of a college party lifestyle. It was time to think about the future and the first step was getting an apartment of our own. With this came more bills and less money to be frivolous with. Josh took an executive chef position rather than just that of a line cook and I moved from a family diner to a white shirt and long apron job. We were proud of our progress. There were a few more arguments over finances, but again, things were mostly good. We decided we were ready to try for a baby, at least, as ready as we’d ever be. You really are never ready for something like that.

 Just a few months after getting pregnant we took a real drastic plunge and decided we would move across country and start our own business. We knew this was a really big step, but there was some level of naivety. We were stubborn, fighters, independent individuals, how hard could it really be? We had both spent years in the restaurant business, we were the best in our fields and confident enough to say so. We knew how it ran, inside and out. Our place was a small ten table bistro in a small town in Colorado, how could that possibly be unmanageable.

 My goal here is not to tell that particular story, quite frankly, I’m just not ready to relive it tonight and it would probably take several posts from several different angles to tell it. All I will say is that there were things that happened all at once with a snowball effect that gave me my “slap” and indicated that my honeymoon had come to a screeching halt. Some of these things were rookie mistakes on both our part, some of them were unforeseeable, and some of them were crazy once in a lifetime occurences that made you stop and say, “Really?! Come on!!”

 I must note here that Josh and I have always had a very healthy intimate relationship. (To put it as politely as I can.) Maybe even too healthy. There was no lack in physical attraction for us. Even during our busiest and most stressful days running our restaurant when we would be worn to a frazzle, we would find time for intimacy. Not just the physical act, but it was the closeness and the remnant of that starry-eyed love that kept us from completely breaking down. After all, we were getting closer and closer to the birth of our baby and that kept us going emotionally.

 We moved back to Kentucky with defeat and shame lying squarely on our shoulders but we clung to the last shreds of our honeymoon love. That changed with the birth and death of our daughter. I have to say that was more my part than his. In my agony and emptiness I withdrew into myself. I didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling. At first I was very numb and when he held me I just felt nothing. Those first couple months I panicked at this brand new feeling of nothingness. I felt like I would never feel anything again. Most of that is a blur for me, as I’ve said before, so even though I know you’re wondering how I ended up pregnant again so soon, I can’t really tell you. (Other than the obvious.) I think that in my pain and grief I was desperate to have something from life before the world fell apart and he felt the same, but we both soon found that it was not that easy. Each time, I just felt like I was lying and that was all I could think about, which made things worse, and I couldn’t take it anymore. As our physical relationship went down hill, so did our closeness and the special bond I had marveled at from the first time I met him. It didn’t look good.

 This is where our beliefs and resolve stepped in, where it was time to experience marriage after the honeymoon. Many people look at this stage with dread and fear, they hope it doesn’t happen to them, they try to believe they will be different than those before them, a lot of them get disillusioned when the inevitable happens and throw in the towel. They fail to look at this part as a blessing.

 I am not saying it was easy, but I look back in retrospect at this time as a blessing in disguise. I had always wondered deep down if our marriage was perhaps the result of getting caught up in the moment. We were married so quickly, both of us had a past that influenced our need for each other, we were undeniably attracted to each other in a strong physical way, were we really ment for each other or was our decision overshadowed by other factors?

 My husband stepped up to the plate first, I have to admit. He determined to love me in my crazy state. He held me all the closer because I pushed him away. He held my fragile life together when I could not possibly do it myself. He went back to work when I couldn’t and kept us from being completely destitute in the wake of our destroyed life. He did this for three or four months without any help or support from me. Just as his strength was giving way and the grief really began to hit him, I was able to rise up from my bed of ashes and due to his strength and nurturing, I started to come back to life, slowly at first, but a bit more quickly as he wilted under it all. I took my turn telling him it would be ok, that we would pull through, that things would somehow work out.

 We truly began to heal together with the birth of our daughter Faith. She was like an ointment on our torn and bleeding souls, and still is. She can never replace our daughter Skye, but she fills an emptiness that can’t be explained. Watching her and loving her has turned back the clock, it seems, replenishing what was lost, what I thought we would never regain.

 The honeymoon feel is still gone, but in its place is a new, deeper love. You can’t understand until you’ve been there that this love is so much better than that bubbly, physical love. It is strong and true and dependable. I never have to worry that he doesn’t love me, I’ve seen him love me when he got nothing back. I sometimes remember that starry-eyed feeling and long for it again, but then I kiss him and experience a deeper passion, one tried by the fire. This love lasts well after the physical appearance has become less glamorous. It’s the kind of love that looks at you with no makeup, in your pajamas, baby spit up on your shirt, and hair that needed to be washed half a day ago and still reaches for you as if you were glammed up with a red teddie on. It is the kind of love that will sit on the porch swing with you long after physical intimacy is impossible. It is the love that makes me say, “The honeymoon is over,” with a smile on my face.

Advertisement