Leaving My Parents and Clinging to My Spouse

Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and cleaves to his wife, and they become one flesh. (Genesis 2:24)

Just the beginning of our walk through life together
Photo credit: 808 Studio

He answered, “Have you not read that he who made them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? (Matthew 19:4-5)

The one thing I have been hands down struggling with the most these past two (three?) weeks is the absence of my husband. He is in PA, working odd and long shift hours; I am home in the Midwest with Grace.

Cleaving to one's spouse means forming a new family - and it was possibly the hardest and best thing that happened in our first year of marriage. Our first six months had me still living in my parents' house during the week and Will continuing his bachelor ways. Then we moved South and we only had each other. That was the best part of New Orleans: us, together, facing the world.

The world isn't so bad, either: buying groceries for the week. Making sure we paid our bills on time. Fixing coffee in the morning. Fixing dinner at night. Bed time routine with Grace. Sharing funny cartoons or news articles. Picking each other's brains. Eating together for meals. Playing and reading with Grace. PT with Grace. Walks with Grace! Netflix marathons. Reading days. Night time prayers. Popsicles as treats and therapy.

The best part about the past year was the amount of "us" time - and now that we're entering into a limited time together three years, I still feel so optimistic about us, and making time for each other, and making life better because we do things together. I used to be so timid at the idea of "leaving" my family - my plentiful number of relations for one, single person. And that one person took me on too, for better and worse.

And that's why I miss us. I just hung up the phone with him, as he gets off his shift almost two hours later. He's going to study, then bed; he has Grand Rounds in the morning, then works 11 p.m. till morning time. I get another round of Grace-wakes-up-all-night-and-day, and maybe I'll read more of my Agatha Christie too. It would be so nice to be reading in our own bed while he studies, with Grace across the hall, instead of me needing to tiptoe back into the guest room.

I'm ready to go home to PA. I love my family - both sides! - and seeing them and spending time with them has been so special. But I am officially cleaved. I miss my much better half. It's such a strange notion to me, that I could ever adore someone like I do Will. I mean, it's almost irrational. Love is. Some parts, it makes sense: we work together well, we want the same things, we have similar temperments, we complement each other. Other parts are a mystery: we have few common interests, he's much funnier than I am, I'm more talkative about everything, and our pursuits are different.

And still, we fit. We choose to fit. We want to fit.



That's possibly the thing I've realized most these past few weeks (two more to go!): the transition from getting married because, logically, we love each other/ we respect each other/ we enjoy each other's company/ we want the same things to we are married and for this healthy relationship to continue so happily, we must continue to appreciate and need the other person.

I think it's so nice to be needed. Will and I are in it for the long haul, and we're in it for the short haul too. The freeing realization that I do not have to hide my emotions for fear of teasing or rejection: that I'm always accepted by him. That I can openly miss him and not feel like I am being silly: that missing a part of myself is perfectly natural.

Let the countdown continue - Michigan vacation starts this weekend (and for the next week!), and then home again, home again, jiggity-jig.