My husband and I are eight years into our relationship and six years into marriage. We have two preschool-aged daughters and a new baby girl. And as I reflect, I realize something surprising about these past eight years.
I didn’t think I romanticized marriage. I always joked I wasn’t “that girl.” But one thing I was sure of: I knew who I was marrying.
I thought he was kind. Strong in both mind and body. He made me laugh. He was fun to be around and oh, so handsome. He was thoughtful, smart, and capable of deep conversation. He’d be a wonderful dad. He made me feel loved. I knew all of this.
But now, looking back over this time since we’ve been together, I’ve had a startling realization: I didn’t marry who I thought I did.
Marriage can be hard. At first, it felt light and fun. Easy. And then we became parents to a beautiful daughter. Suddenly, you meet someone new—both in your partner and in yourself. You endure challenges and adjustments that test you to your core. I’ve read that around 20 percent of couples break up within a year of having a baby. The miracle of life…and yet, I get it. Because it is hard.
But I also met someone new when my husband became a dad. Someone no one else in the world knows like I do.
I knew he thought I was beautiful.
But he taught me true beauty as we sat outside watching our little baby crawl through the grass, discover an airplane in the sky, point to a bird, marvel at a bug. We’d glance at each other without saying a word, smiling because we both felt the same sacred connection. That was beauty.
The man I married always made me laugh.
But he showed me a deeper humor—the kind that carries you through chaos. We laugh about how often we discuss bowel movements in a household of babies and a dog. We laugh about surviving on four hours of sleep. We laugh, surrounded by toys and snacks in our humble home, yet drowning in blessings.
It’s easy to adore your beautiful bride. I knew he adored me then. But I’ve since learned real love from my husband. The kind that shows up when I’m exhausted and ready to quit, and he takes my hand with, “I love you. We can do this.”
The man I married was handsome.
But he became a different kind of handsome. I watched him grieve with loved ones. Drop everything for a friend in need. Offer light to those lost in darkness. Take seriously his calling as a disciple of Christ. And even if I never saw his face again, his soul would only grow more beautiful to me. He taught me what true attraction is.
No marriage is perfect. God never intended it to be. But having a partner to grow with, to learn from, to find joy with eternally—that is a far greater gift than any fleeting fairy tale.
I didn’t marry the man I thought I did. He’s so much better.
by Jodie Utter 
by Heather Delaney 
