WEDDED BLISS

Saturday, June 24, 2023, my wife and I will celebrate 34 years of wedded bliss. What does wedded bliss mean? I get the ‘wedded’ part, I even get the ‘bliss’ part, but when put together, the meaning gets a little fuzzy.

Was it bliss when I felt like I was going to throw up getting up the courage to ask Robin out on out first date? Maybe it was when my two best friends looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Don’t screw this up,” knowing that I had a two-year track record of “screwing things up”. Maybe it was when I realized the enormity of what I had done when I asked Robin to marry me. Wedded bliss was declaring bankruptcy before we got married, so her name wouldn’t be associated with my failure. It was supporting the two of us on a teacher’s salary while she finished school.

Wedded bliss was being diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease. It destroyed a highly decorated military career, and guaranteed that my wife would have damaged goods for the rest of our lives. It was getting her pregnant during the honeymoon, ruining her 5-year plan. Morning sickness, an auto accident while Robin was pregnant, trying to wrap my mind around being a father, being a teacher and coach, and learning how to be a husband. So blissful.

We raised Jessica, and I felt like everything I did was wrong. I was on a LOT of prednisone. Roid rages were common. Thankfully I never took it out on either girl in my life. Assorted furniture, dry wall, sometimes I would just scream in my car. Robin and I worked on having baby #2. It didn’t happen right away. Then it did. Then Robin had some abdominal pain. I took Robin to get an ultrasound, and I watched in horror as the ultrasound tech took the reading, then went into the next room to weep. Robin didn’t cry until she passed our baby in the toilet. I got the baby out, and wrapped it in a paper towel to take it to the doctor. The bliss was coming down like rain.

I could go on, but I really can’t. One can focus on the horrible things that happen in life, and have that color their life. That has never been me. I was always an “Always look on the bright side of life,” kind of guy. Like Eric Idle singing from the cross in The Life of Brian.

I remember seeing my beautiful wife coming down the aisle at our wedding. I knew then that, whatever happened, we would be facing life together. And we did. Through it all, Robin kept us together. She persevered through my bouts of Crohn’s, the numerous surgeries and various side effects. She was the rock that our family leaned on. We added Carole to the family right as we separated for nine months. Robin brought me back into the family, and helped me work to make it a family again.

Jessica, who was 10 years old at the time, was furious with me. Couldn’t blame her, I had been a world-class dick. I remember that fall, she was in the front yard with me, raking leaves. Suddenly, she ran over to me and hugged me, crying. I will have to admit that onion-cutting ninjas were in the area. My little girl had forgiven me, and we were a family again. It was right then that I vowed that never again would I allow my narcissism to destroy my family. I grew up. Jessica and Carole grew up with Robin and I. A family.

So here we are, 34 years later. Jessica is married, with 2 children of her own. She and Christian, her husband, live with Robin and I. That means I get daily doses of my grandsons Roman and Stevie. These two Agents of Chaos bring laughter and joy into my life. So does Robin. She and I have certainly been through the wars together. Carole is 23. She might just make it.

Marriage isn’t easy. It was never meant to be. Two distinct people living as one requires more than a feeling. It is hard work, with sweat, blood, tears and most likely other bodily fluids. It involves compromise and sacrifice. It hurts, it heals, it destroys and it creates. It is the embodiment of the human experience. Two flawed humans coming together to try to create new life. What could be easy about that?

I will tell you this with all honesty. I wouldn’t change a thing.

Not. A. Damn. Thing.

All of our shared experiences, good and bad, the scars, the nightmares, the exultations, the quiet moments, the sadness, the wonder, the laughs. Always the laughs.

When you make a vow, you have to first say the words.

“I, Stephen Cline Satterly, Jr. take you, Robin Lynne Reuter, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.“

Then comes the fun part. Learning the depth and nuances of what that vow means. That vow means so much more now than it did 34 years ago. I look at Robin now, and she still takes my breath away. I still feel that ache in my heart that I felt when she said, “Yes.” I am so glad she did. She helped me fulfill my potential, helped me create something together that I could never had done alone. A family. So on our anniversary, my Queen, I will just say thank you. Being your husband has been the honor of my life.

That, friends, is wedded bliss.