This much I know about marriage, five years in
I know that being married to you is just like being in a long term relationship with you, except people don’t ask when we’re planning to get married any more, because we’ve already done it.
I know that choosing a lawyer for a husband is, on a practical level, the most useful selection I have ever made.
I know that when you told me that there’s no situation you can’t physically carry me away from, it’s the safest I have ever felt.
I know that you were lying when you said it was still true when I was heavily pregnant with our daughter, and it meant just as much.
I know that when they told us that the first year of marriage would be the hardest, they weren’t chuffing joking.
I know that we survived that year and all it threw at us – my panic disorder, our collective career-related nightmares – because we tackled it together.
I know that Japan will always hold a special place in our hearts because we went there during that time. We listened to Life’s a Happy Song from The Muppets soundtrack over and over again as we travelled around, because we’re super cool people, and because it gave us hope.
I know that marriage is about helping each other be the best we can be.
I know that you’re never going to be someone who puts a finished toilet roll straight into the recycling bin, and I accept that about you.
I know that I’m never going to be someone who lets a simple domestic foible go without writing about it on the Internet, and it’s good of you to accept that about me, too.
I know that having a baby has made me need you so much that it scares me.
I know we’ve been together for 13 years, but I still get excited when I receive a text from you.
I know that your idea of watching a film is pressing play and sitting still for two hours.
I know that my idea of watching a film is pressing play and then walking from room to room completing 897 domestic activities, and then sitting down and falling asleep.
I know that no matter what I’m going through, if I talk to you about it, I’ll feel better.
I know that marriage means knowing when to step up. When I had a panic attack at Heathrow airport on our way to Australia, you told me I could go home if I wanted to – even though you really didn’t want me to. And when, 12 hours later, we were stranded at Hong Kong airport and you were worried you wouldn’t make it to Sydney in time for work, I got us onto a flight. Because your feelings are valid, and so are mine.
I know that the love we feel for our daughter is unconditional and that our love for each other is not.
I know that realising this, and the shift we felt when this small human being took pole position in our lives, will only make us work harder at the marriage that brought her to us.
I know we’ve realised that it’s best for everyone that the period of time when a couple plans a wedding doesn’t go on forever.
I know that it’s not healthy for my entire sense of self-worth to come from the fact that you love me.
I know that I owe myself a lot more credit than that.
I know that, now that we have a baby, we have to help each other make time to be ourselves. To go to the gym, to see our friends, to write – making space in our lives to be who we are, is a two person job now.
I know that it was a privilege to crumble alongside you beneath the weight of responsibility we’d not quite prepared for on the day our daughter was born.
I know that we’re doing all we can to become the parents she deserves.
I know that if we believed in ourselves as much as we believe in each other, we wouldn’t have a single thing in this world to fear.
I know that during my speech on our wedding day I said that as long as we’re together everything will be OK.
I know that I was right about that.