Ask Team Practical: The Meaning of Marriage

What does it mean to get married?

I should maybe say, what does it mean for non-religious people to get married? What does it mean for people who believe in marriage equality, but still apply for a marriage license to get married? When the religious and legal definitions of marriage don’t represent or capture what you are doing, what is the event, the promise, the meaning of marriage? What does marriage mean when you strip away some or most of its historical context?

Oh guys. I know it’s head-y stuff, but I could use your help. Pretty please.

This post and question is born out of a conversation I’m sure most wedding graduates have had: the writing of the vows. This is, obviously, the most important of the to-dos turned “what does it mean” items—what is the thing we are agreeing to. My partner and I have slightly different ideas, and I imagine that won’t change. I’m not so much worried about our vows being different, but I’ve found myself wondering about others’ promises and definitions as my partner and I explore what we want to promise and define as marriage.

I know I’m not the first one in this spot and am curious about y’alls experience, thoughts, and ideas. There’s wisdom here at APW, and I could really some: so, what did you find? What is your meaning of marriage?

Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

I think we both know this question is well beyond my pay grade. Beside that, it’s guaranteed to be different from person to person based on (like you said) religion, but also culture, tradition, and whatever else.

So, I’m going to tell you what marriage means to me (apart from the pieces tied up in my personal spirituality), and then I want to hear what everyone else has to say in the comments. Deal?

I know you said that the legal definition of marriage doesn’t exactly capture what you think marriage means, but I think it’s a pretty good starting point.* When a state chooses to grant legal marriage rights, it means you are then recognized as “next of kin” as far as the government and hospitals and whoever else is concerned. And legality aside, that’s what marriage means to me. Not just that I get to choose how my husband is treated when he’s at the hospital, but that he’s now my “next of kin”—my family. And not only a part of my big, loud extended family. He’s the family for me now. He’s tied to me the way my mom and my brother are, but only closer and with higher importance. That’s major.

Not only are you becoming family, but you’re declaring to everyone that you’re now a “unit.” That idea sometimes creeps people out because, honestly, who wants to sacrifice their individuality? But that’s not the case at all. You’re still you, your separate and individual self. But, sort of like in a business partnership, you can speak for one another (which comes in handy when the guy calling from the credit card company is giving you attitude). You might recognize this from the icky historical assumption that when a man married a woman, he owned her and spoke for her. Sort of like that, only the assumption is no longer that women are idiots who need men to do the tough tasking of thinking for them, but instead that two grown-up human people can intelligently reach agreements and make decisions. Whereas once upon a time, the marriage unit meant ownership, now it signifies partnership.

All of that adds up to my partner becoming The Most Important Person to me. And I’m his. Which means our relationship is top priority among my family, my friends, and whoever else. Even above the cat. And that comes with a bit of responsibility. When he’s sick, when it’s his birthday, when he has a crappy day at work. I try to be that one person he can always depend on to join him in laughing and celebrating, or crying and mourning, or occasionally, to tell him to stop being a tool. Don’t read me wrong, here. I’m not saying that I’m responsible for making him happy. Oh lord, do I groan when marriage is pared down to, “S/he makes me happy.” So not the point. My whole purpose in getting married wasn’t to find someone who makes me happy (though he does sometimes. And other times he makes me laugh, and other times he makes me want to stab him in the belly), but to find someone to share all of the stuff that makes me happy. And also, all the stuff that makes me sad, and all the stuff that makes me angry. That’s who I try to be for him. The person to be there as he experiences all the good and bad of life, and to maybe make the happy times happier and the sad times less burdensome with my presence. He does the same for me.

The great thing that I’ve seen within my marriage is that the broader strokes take shapes that I maybe hadn’t originally foreseen or intended. So, sure, my husband promised to “love” and “honor” me. But only since having the flu last week I’ve seen that love and honor take the form of long, uninterrupted naps while he takes care of my end of the chores. And meanwhile, I’ve figured out that sometimes loving and honoring him means sucking it up and watching something gross about zombies. The details change, but that core of being a family, being partners, and being there for one another as we experience life stuff, that all stays the same.

*Editor’s Note: Of course, we understand that not everyone in this country is currently granted legal rights when they marry, and this response is in no way meant to negate the commitment that anyone makes to another person while being denied the rights that go with that commitment. If anything, it just further supports the fact that marriage rights should be granted on a federal level, thus eliminating all this grey area.

*****

Team Practical, this one’s all you. What does marriage mean to you?

Photo by Leah and Mark Photography.

If you would like to ask Team Practical a question please don’t be shy! You can email Liz at: askteampractical [at] apracticalwedding [dot] com. If you would prefer to not be named, anonymous questions are also accepted. Though it really makes our day when you come up with a clever sign-off!

Baby Making: Sassy Advice for When the “Trying” Gets Tough

Oh, conception! You’ve finally decided to kick the pill to the curb and now, all that stands between you and an adorable, cooing infant is relaxed, plentiful sex, nine months of eating ice cream and voila: BABY! (That’s exactly how it works, right?) So when the “trying” isn’t “working,” what’s a girl to do?

Some lessons learned during nine months of the-trying-isn’t-working:

1. Just relax!
(This is obviously a joke. This is something your doctor, who is literally nine months pregnant, and probably conceived all of her seven children naturally after her husband just looked at her, tells you as you sit in her office, fingernails bitten down to the elbows. This is something your friend tells you, the one who “ohmygod, got pregnant after one month of trying, isntthatcrazy?!” This is something your mother tells you, but then asks you on the regular whether or not you are yet pregnant. But seriously, whataboutnow? But you cannot relax. Because you had a plan for this whole pregnancy thing. You had a plan for actually having this baby in time for a summer marathon/learning how to knit a cute and possibly ironic fall sweater/trekking across Bhutan. Because you were totally going to do those things. With a ten-month-old. On your back. But now, you cannot. Because now, your sole focus is planning the days on which you and your husband will both be home at exactly the same, very romantic, time.)

2. Which brings us to number two. Have a lot of transactional sex because you are using the cycle beads and the stupid cycle beads say YOU MUST HAVE SEX EVERY DAY FOR TWELVE DAYS STARTING NOW, we don’t care if you’re tired and just ate a lot of cookies fun!

3. You are not alone!
(You are totally alone. Every single woman you know between the ages of eighteen to forty is currently pregnant or has recently given birth to the most beautiful-precious-porcelain-doll-of-a-gorgeous-baby, none of whom look all weird and grandpa-alien-ish, and there is literally no one, not a single other person in the entire god forsaken universe who has ever tried as long as you have to have a baby—which is really not that long at all. Also: Facebook. Honestly. You swing wildly back and forth between liking every single picture of a child under the age of three—even the only semi-cute, goblin looking children of some former intern who you have literally exchanged not seven words with—and feeling like, hey girl, I do not need this constant stream of adorable baby mugs and fawning social-media-o-sphere taunting me with every teeny-tiny baby mitten and teeny-tiny fuzzy baby chicken Halloween costume ever sold or made. So alas, you are going to have to leave Facebook. Because that is a totally rational, not impulsive decision and the only available option. Obviously.*)

4. The mommy blogs. Dear lord in heaven, the mommy blogs.
(The mommy blogs, collectively speaking, are a deep, dark, discombobulating vortex into which you will fall. Hard. You will become irrationally obsessed with mommy blogs as a way to numb your pain get excited about motherhood! But it’s okay! Because even though you do not have a child, and are neither breastfeeding nor pregnant, it is totally imperative that you form deep, nuanced opinions on cloth diapers, “keeping baby safe from scary electrical outlet thingy,” and some mystery verb called “Ferberizing.” Oh, you are ready for that baby and now that you suddenly discovered these feminist, progressive mom-ladies and their profound missives on the interwebs, the amount of time you spend reading this stuff is bordering on crazy town.)

5. The TV is a bunch of lying liars.
(Getting pregnant is totally not at all like they say it is in Teen Mom. You will know because after months of “trying”, you will convince your husband to pretend that you are both totally irresponsible sixteen-year-olds and you are like, you know, hooking up at his parents house, and he like totally doesn’t want to wear a condom, because you know, it like doesn’t feel good, and plus he’s “too big,” and you think you took your birth control but umm, you don’t really know because whateverrrr, so let’s just bang, hmm? Spoiler alert: you will not get pregnant this way despite your strong work impersonating the only-semi-literate stars of MTV’s hit series which is made for people much younger than you and which you totally do not watch while working out. Anyway, you’re still not pregnant.)

So where does that leave us besides still, totally, without a baby? Well, humor and wit intact, we forge on! For those playing at home, we’re now eleven expensive decadent months into this infertility adventure, where our cast of characters now involves a reproductive endocrinologist and an inordinate number of early morning doctor’s appointments. But it could be worse, right? We could be on Teen Mom.

*You do not leave Facebook because, duh, how would you remember birthdays? Also, the cute babies!

Photo by Gabriel Harber Photography