MAGAZINE
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Ten years ago, my husband Steve and I stood side by side, two newlyweds stepping into marriage with big dreams, big responsibilities, and honestly, no idea what we were about to walk through. He had just been appointed as a pastor. I was newly pregnant with our first daughter. We were trying to build a life, serve others, and figure out who we were as individuals, all at once.
Our first year wasn’t full of quiet dinners and carefree date nights. It was full of pressure, transition, and growing pains. And that set the tone for what would become a decade of stretching, learning, stumbling, and standing back up again–together.
We’ve walked through mental health struggles, ministry burnout, parenting two girls, career changes, and seasons where we weren’t even sure how to keep going. I left my teaching job to become a stay-at-home mom for the sake of my mental health and our family’s well-being. We’ve had to rebuild trust, relearn how to communicate, and re-choose each other more than once.
So no, this isn’t a fairytale. This is a real story. A marriage that’s been refined by fire and held together by choice, commitment, and a whole lot of grace.
These are 10 truths I’ve learned after 10 years of marriage. Lessons I carry with me as a wife, a mom, and a woman who’s still learning to love and be loved in every season.
When we first got married, I thought love was mostly about romance and shared dreams. But over time, I realized it’s also about commitment, forgiveness, showing up when it’s hard, and learning how to love each other through change. We’ve both grown a lot in ten years, individually and together. And while the love we had in year one was sweet, the love we have now is stronger. It’s been tested, stretched, and matured in ways I never could have imagined back then.
In the early days, “quality time” was easy. We didn’t have to plan for it, it just happened. But add kids, work, ministry, and the day-to-day busyness of life, and suddenly connection takes more effort. There were seasons when regular date nights just weren’t realistic. But we found little ways to stay close—talking on the phone in the car after dropping the kids off, grabbing breakfast or lunch together while the girls are at school, or laughing over something ridiculous when we’re both too tired to do anything else. Making space for each other, even in the middle of the chaos, matters more than how fancy the moment is.
There were times when we felt more like roommates than partners. Times when we barely spoke between diaper changes, ministry demands, and survival mode. Loving someone doesn’t mean it’s always easy, or that you always feel close. But even in the distance, the love was there. Sometimes, holding on looks like showing up when it’s hard. And that matters.
There were seasons when my mental health made everything heavier. I struggled. We struggled. And there were moments when neither of us had the answers. Choosing to leave my career and become a stay-at-home mom wasn’t part of the original plan, but it became a decision rooted in protecting my peace and our family’s. If you’re in a place where you feel like you’re falling apart, you’re not broken. You’re navigating something real, and it deserves care, not shame.
We entered marriage with ideas of what it would look like. I thought I’d have a career in education while managing our home and raising our children. Instead, we’ve had to pivot and adjust. There have been seasons where he carried more, and seasons where I did. What I’ve learned is that balance doesn’t always look “equal.” It looks like teamwork and giving each other grace when things don’t feel fair.
We didn’t always know how to talk about the hard stuff. And we definitely didn’t always say things the right way. There were arguments that didn’t end with hugs, moments we misunderstood each other completely, and times when silence felt safer than speaking. But little by little, we’ve learned how to hear each other better and how to fight with each other, not against each other.
It’s easy to let connection fall to the bottom of the list when you’re exhausted and pulled in a million directions. But staying emotionally and physically close doesn’t just happen. It takes intentionality, even in the small things. Holding hands during a walk, pausing to ask how they’re really doing, sharing your thoughts instead of keeping them to yourself, these are just a few of the everyday ways intimacy is built.
We’ve had to learn how to protect our marriage from other people’s opinions, expectations, and sometimes, well-meaning but misguided advice. Every couple is different. What works for one marriage might not work for yours. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to define your own rhythm, your own boundaries, and your own version of healthy love.
We haven’t always grown at the same pace, and sometimes that created tension. But growth doesn’t have to happen in unison to be meaningful. There were times when one of us had to carry more, lead differently, or do more healing work. What matters is staying committed to growing together, even if the process doesn’t look the same for both people.
Early in our marriage, we decided that no matter what life brought—ministry pressure, financial stress, or health challenges—our home would be a place of peace. Not perfection, but peace. That meant learning how to de-escalate, how to apologize, how to let some things go, and how to be each other’s safe place to land. And to this day, that decision continues to shape the way we love.
Ten years in, and we’re still standing. Not because we’ve done everything right, but because we’ve chosen to keep showing up for each other, even when it was hard. Our marriage hasn’t been picture-perfect, but it’s been real, and that’s what makes it ours. We’ve loved each other through anxiety, exhaustion, long nights with little sleep, and long seasons with little peace.
We’ve learned how to give each other room to grow, how to fight fair, how to apologize (even when it’s awkward), and how to lean in when everything in us wants to shut down. If you’re in a season where marriage, motherhood, and figuring out who you are all feel like a lot, I want you to know you’re not alone. You don’t need to have all the answers to be building something real.
Ten years in, we’re still learning, still growing, and still choosing each other, sometimes through joy and sometimes through mess. Our story hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been ours. And that, more than anything, is what makes it beautiful.
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As a wife, mom of two daughters, and self-care coach for moms, I understand the demands of motherhood. I’m passionate about helping overwhelmed moms find balance and peace through practical self-care strategies. With over 20 years of experience as a mental wellness advocate, I bring a holistic approach to managing stress and nurturing mental well-being, helping moms reclaim joy while navigating life’s challenges.
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