The 2 Moms Life

After you’ve been with someone for a long time, people eventually ask the same question:

“What’s the secret to a happy marriage?”

I always laugh because I think they’re expecting some magical answer.

The truth? There isn’t one.

There isn’t a secret handshake, a perfect date night, or a magic number of “I love yous” that guarantees you’ll stay happily married forever. What there is… is a choice. Every single day.

It’s choosing to love someone through the easy days, the messy days, and the days when neither of you feels like your best self. You have to love your person through all of it—the beautiful parts and the broken ones, the confident versions, the scared versions, and the versions that don’t even recognize themselves. That’s where love is tested.

Loving Tammy has never been the hard part. She’ll probably tell you the same thing.

When we first started dating 21 years ago, it was easy. It was just us. We could be spontaneous, spend hours talking about nothing, and enjoy life without children depending on us, careers pulling us in different directions, or calendars filled months in advance.

Then life happened.

We got married. We struggled through infertility. We experienced pregnancy loss. We became parents. We changed careers. We found new friendships, lost others, and watched our priorities shift. Somewhere along the way, we both changed—not in a bad way, but in the way life changes all of us.

I recently came across a quote that stopped me in my tracks:

“Marriage is falling in love with different versions of the same person over and over again. It’s choosing each other not just once, but in every season.”

I’ll admit, my first thought was, “That’s cute.” But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how true it really is.

The woman I met 21 years ago isn’t the exact same woman I’m married to today.

And thank goodness for that.

When we first met, Tammy was fearless. She knew who she was long before I knew who I was. She took a chance on a relationship that so many people told her wouldn’t work, and she chose me anyway.

Years later, I watched her become the partner who held me together through infertility, negative pregnancy tests, and miscarriage. She became softer in ways only the people closest to her got to see. The walls she’d built over the years slowly came down, and she let herself be vulnerable.

Then came motherhood.

I think this might be my favorite version of her.

Watching her love our children has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. She’s the caregiver, the problem solver, and the one who somehow knows what we need before we even ask. She’s fiercely protective, endlessly compassionate, and still finds enough love to pour into me, too.

Now we’re entering another season. The kids are getting older, our house is changing, and life looks different than it did ten years ago. I can see her wondering how to hold onto these moments while also preparing to let them go. She wants our kids to experience things she never had growing up. She wants to create traditions they’ll carry with them long after they leave home.

And honestly…

I love this version of her, too.

Each season has introduced me to someone new, and each time, I choose her again.

That doesn’t mean every version has been easy. We’ve been frustrated with each other. We’ve disagreed. We’ve misunderstood one another. We’ve had moments where one of us needed more grace than the other felt capable of giving.

That’s marriage.

It’s imperfect. It’s messy. It’s beautiful. It’s ordinary. It’s extraordinary.

People think the happiest marriages are the ones that never struggle. I think they’re the ones where two people decide that the struggle isn’t bigger than their commitment to each other.

Maybe that’s the closest thing there is to a secret.

Keep choosing each other. Communicate, even when it’s uncomfortable. Be willing to grow. Allow your partner to change and allow yourself to change too.

When you look across the room at the person you chose all those years ago, remember why.

Because love isn’t about finding someone who never changes.

It’s about loving them enough to keep meeting every new version with an open heart.

Twenty-one years later, I can honestly say this:

I love this woman more today than I did the day we met.

Not because she’s the same person…

But because I’ve been lucky enough to fall in love with every version of her along the way.

P.S. Fair warning—this song might make you cry. It certainly got me. When I sent it to Tammy, she immediately informed me that I was no longer allowed to make her cry at work. ❤️