Nicole Kropf

Today is our 9th wedding anniversary.

As I reflect on where we’ve been and where we are in our marriage journey, I think it’s important to be honest and transparent. Social media so often acts as a highlight reel and we can easily assume that everything in someone else’s life is as pretty as it appears on the gram. In honour of authenticity, I just want to put it out there that marriage is freaking hard.

Like so many couples do, before we got married, we attended pre-marital counselling. We worked our way through what seemed like no less than a million questions – covering everything from household chores, to political and religious views, and even our ideas of what we’d like to happen to our bodies upon death. While I’m sure that Travis found it tedious, I LOVED it! With each matching answer, I felt more and more confident that we were meant to be. In fact, our counselor actually told us that we were easily the most compatible couple he’d ever worked with.

Our first dance at our wedding was to a song called “The Greatest Story Ever Told” by Oliver James. And you guys, while I wasn’t naive to the fact that marriage would at times take work, I honestly just felt that we had what it takes to not only make it through together but to retain that greatest love story feeling til death do us part. And honestly, the early years of our marriage were actually easy. We fell into this rhythm of doing life side by side. Travis’ things became my things. We went to the gym and boot camp together. I spent too many days to count at the paintball field and found family there. We had two friends as housemates and that life was a good one. I made dinner for all of us and one of our roomies always did the dishes and tidied the kitchen after (Lord, how I miss this, Nolan!) Our life was so abundantly full that there was no room for loneliness.

In our early marriage, we were living in a city about half an hour away from our current home but we found we were always coming back this way for various things – church, baseball, hockey, and our families were both in this area. So we made the decision to move back. We built our home and together worked at choosing the finishes for our home and even poured a ridiculous amount of sweat equity into the beams we’ve used as accents throughout. And it was fun having all of these projects together.

We both deeply wanted to be parents but we also wanted to take adequate time to be young and selfish. We wanted to build a solid foundation for the family we hoped would come. And by the time our sweet boy came along, I was confident we’d done that. While I can’t express enough what a gift our son was (and continues to be), parenting was when our marriage was really put to the test.

You see, my whole world shifted. My life now revolved around our precious little bundle who also happened to have cholic. Travis’ life remained the same only more full. He still worked the same job, played the same sports, and then had this sweet little family to return to. Even though parenting was my greatest desire and is easily my greatest treasure, it still meant giving up other things that I deeply loved. I obviously wasn’t working anymore so my days were largely spent at home alone with my boy. The paintball field wasn’t the ideal place for a baby so I gave up spending time with the men who had become brothers to me. Going to the gym obviously wasn’t a realistic expectation and time with friends was drastically reduced. All of this is to express how my joy at being a parent was tempered by my grief over the things I’d lost. That grief, while I couldn’t name it at the time, presented itself as quiet resentment.

For the first time in our married life, we weren’t doing everything together. In fact, it felt like we weren’t doing anything together. While I knew parenting was important and meaningful, I also was deeply lonely and questioned my worth. And more often than not, I quietly shoved my feelings down in an effort to be the good, joyful, Godly wife I felt like I was supposed to be. I never ever wanted people to think I didn’t deeply cherish my son and my husband. The problem with shoving feelings down again and again, is that at some point they come back up – and for me that process can be rather volcanic. That is to say that I’m a tidbit explosive. My hurts after being pushed away, tend to show up loudly in anger rather than softly as sadness.

As our family grew and we welcomed our beautiful little girl, my fears of parenting largely alone were overwhelming. My resentment was at an all time high. Though I knew Travis loved us, whenever he chose to invest time in things outside of the home, it felt like he was choosing those things OVER our family. We’d been through so many circular arguments always ending with Travis saying all the right things and me, while never doubting his love, frequently questioning his sincerity. Despite his assurance otherwise, I felt like I was becoming a “nagging wife” – something I loathed (since I prided myself in being encouraging and supportive). Here’s a little secret – every woman I know wants to feel chosen and I am no different. When the majority of my life was spent being needed, I so badly ached to feel wanted. And when Travis was frequently out of the house for various hobbies, I felt unwanted, undervalued, and invisible. And I feared that our kids would eventually feel the same.

I know in my head that Travis’s intentions were never anything short of good. I know he never intended for me to feel those things – but alas – there they were. Guys, I want to be clear that there were plenty of amazing times too – times when we both invested in our family and in meeting one another’s needs, times when I leaned more into Travis’ baseball team and once again found family, times when Travis worked extra hard to allow me time away from home – to lean into people and things that I loved and when I could just feel human again. When we have *both* put in the work, we have reaped the rewards. But a lot of these issues are things we continue to struggle with (and argue about) today.

Our families undoubtedly get the best of us but because they are our safe space, they also sometimes get the worst. Marriage is a place where both our greatest assets and our biggest weaknesses show up loud and clear. Parenthood puts a magnifying glass to these things as well. And you guys, it is so hard.

I think 9 years ago, I thought of marriage as a string that tied us together. Now, I think a loving marriage needs to be more like an elastic band. It has to have enough stretch for the times when we lean apart but be tight enough to draw us back together again. Friends, sometimes in marriage, your love will be stretched to its limit and it will take everything in you to keep hanging on. And other times it will come easily and leave you feeling surrounded and supported.

Our marriage has at times been stretched to the limit. There have been moments when it seems like it would be easier to cut the string and walk away. But if we pulled out the scissors when things got hard, we’d miss out on the beauty of coming together again. And as long as both of us continue to hang on and work toward resolution and re-connection, as long as we both strive to love one another even when it’s exhausting, I am confident that we will find ourselves supported, and encouraged, and deeply chosen all over again.

So, here’s to 9 years, Travis. Its been a ride. Thanks for loving me. Thanks for being brave enough to let me share our icky bits with the world through my writing. While I no longer naively believe ours is the greatest story ever told, I do still desire to love you until death do us part.

**This is our story – the only one in which I can call myself an expert. Everyone’s story is different and every couple experiences different challenges. I’m sharing this only so those who are finding things harder than they imagined may know that they are not alone and to encourage people when possible to keep choosing one another. There are people I dearly love who are separated or divorced and that was the necessary choice for them. I’m not here to tell you what to do, I’m here to share my experiences. No matter what your circumstances are, there is room for you here. There is love for you here. **