“The great marriages are partnerships. It can’t be a great marriage without being a partnership.”
—Helen Mirren
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been away from my wife both day and night.
Recently, that count has grown a little bigger.
The first time we spent time apart was for three weeks while I worked in Indianapolis with my father as a painter for the nursing home facility he managed. We were in need of a new car, and the few hours I worked as a night clerk at the local hotel in our hometown in Michigan wasn’t going to get us the wheels we desperately needed. I was between semesters at school, and since I worked only on the weekends at the hotel, it seemed like a no-brainer.
Then there was the time Gabby went to Utah for her aunt’s wedding. She was seven months pregnant. Again, we were strapped for money, which meant that only one of us were going. I spent the weekend working and reading the last of the Twilight series books feeling—unabashedly so—like young Bella as she pined for Edward and the day they’d become husband and wife never to be separated again.
About two years after the wedding came the first of our family reunions, split between the east and west sides of the country. I had started a new job and had zero vacation days to take. Gabby and our then little twins packed up and spent a weekend camping somewhere in the mountains of Utah.
The Michigan Autism Conference, MAC for short, rolled out for the first time since the COVID-19 pandemic in October 2022. Gabby spent three days and two nights listening to lectures, making contacts, and scoring free swag. The best part was that her company paid for the trip and paid her for the time she spent “working” those three days. Probably some of the easiest money she’s ever made.
And now, for the last two weeks, she’s been both near and far as she’s been helping to take care of her mother after a total knee replacement surgery.
I don’t like it when Gabby is away, especially at night. I can’t sleep. I find myself tossing and turning, waking up at odd hours and hearing strange noises when she’s gone. I know it sounds childish. When we are children we have security blankets and our favorite stuff animal to protect us. As it adults, it seems, we trade those things in for our “security people” because the provide the same warmth and comfort.
It’s not all bad. In fact, I’ve joked that it sort of feels like we are teenagers again and dating. Gabby has a curfew set in place by her aunt (who is also helping in caring for my momma-in-law) so she is back in time to administer the pain relief medicine her mom needs. I get to take her out for a bit, usually to dinner, and then we make out in the car (usually to the kids’ gaging in the back seat or after they’ve rushed into the house) before she jumps in her mom’s car and heads home for the night. We stay up into the early hours of the morning sending text messages back-and-forth (something that would have cost us a fortune back in the early days of cellphones, plans and messaging). In this sense it is kind of fun to be a part.
I’m glad Gabby is doing what she is doing. She is a great daughter to a wonderful mother. I know the work she is doing is greatly appreciated.
Often I hear “I’m sorry I’ve taken your wife away from you,” by my mother-in-law, or “I’m sorry I’m not there, Baby,” from Gabby herself. I reassure both of them that there is nothing to apologize for because our marriage is not one-sided. While I am a selfish husband in many regards when it comes to Gabby, I am not selfish enough to keep her away from doing the things that she needs and wants to do. I know she is so much more than a wife and a mother. She is a daughter, a teacher, a provider and caregiver. She is a big heart, she is a sensitive heart. She will give you the shirt off her back if you need it. She is a coach, a “Nurse Ratchet”, who pushes to get the best out of you.
There is a comfort in knowing all these things about her. There is also mutual comfort in knowing that she does not have to worry about me, the kids or the house while she is away.
Our marriage is more than a man and a woman “shacking up” together. We are friends and lovers, and, more importantly, we are partners.
The house we live in isn’t mine or hers, its ours. The children, save for when they are truly pushing one of our buttons to the max, are ours, and we bear the burden of maintaining both equally. Yes, these past couple of weeks we’ve had to get a little creative on how to move the kids from sporting events and church activities. Yes, I have had to pull a bit more of a “double-duty” in the evening managing the house while working my full-time job; ensuring that clothes are washed and dried and ready for the next day of school and work. Yes, I make sure that dinner is ready each night, and that the kids bathe and call their mom before bed. And yes, I would do all these things again and again when asked of me (or even when they aren’t) because Gabby is my girl. She is my partner, not only here on earth but throughout the eternities.
People often ask us how we make it work. How can they have what we have. The answer is always the same: we stay committed to one another.
The world pushes for division at every level. It lacks compassion, focusing on the “I” instead of the “We” when things get tough. It is human nature to guard oneself when hurt, but we have to rise above those hurt feelings at times and look at the bigger picture. We may have to swallow our pride often so we can listen to what the other person is saying to us. We have to work hard to fight back against that knee-jerk reaction to defend ourselves, even when we aren’t in the wrong. As we learn to use a cooler head we realize that we have the greater leverage and power when it comes time for us to speak.
Staying committed is also recognizing that there isn’t her work and his work. There is THE house work, there are THE children that need caring. There are tradeoffs—like working on math problems until the wee hours of the morning for Dad, and building an Appa head out of Styrofoam for the school Halloween dance the night before the dance for Mom. Staying committed includes championing each other and their dreams, lifting when the other feels down, and sometimes quietly holding the others hand as they work through a moment of depression, anxiety, etc.
I know that not every household is blessed with two parents driving the ship. There are many single-parent homes, some guided by mothers and some guided by fathers. I salute those who have to live this way. It is not easy. I have only had a small taste of that life and I recognize that you do what you do—the best that you can—because who have to. For whatever reason it didn’t work out the first or third time or whatever, I hope you can find someone that is wiling to be committed to you.
I can’t wait for Gabby’s return home. To snuggle with her again. To see her beautiful smile in-person. To hear her laugh and feel the comfort and security she brings. She is my partner, and we make a dynamic duo.
A.C. Crider 