By Miranda Morris 
In my 20s, I was terrified of being alone and longed to escape the chaotic world of modern dating in the arms of my forever guy. Luckily, my prayers were answered when I met my wonderful husband at 26. Like most things in our lives, everything happened fast and with love.
By 27, we were parents to a perfect daughter and just 19 months later an equally perfect son. We went for the hat trick just this year when we welcomed a second beautiful baby boy.
Even though we grew our family fast, I still remember the fun nights out dancing with friends, book-store coffee dates, long walks, and the strongest physical connection either of us had ever experienced. We were everything before everything expanded when we became mom and dad.
Now, we are chauffeurs, teachers, chefs, counselors, drycleaners, coaches, storytellers, stylists, and janitors. Over the last seven years, we’ve learned that being everything to three small humans sometimes makes it hard to feel anything at all like yourself.
It can sometimes feel like we are both just passing through, bumping into each other along the way. Despite the happy chaos, I’m lucky to be with a partner who understands that life has become so beautifully loud that I sometimes need the quiet to survive.
Some days, my favorite thing to be is by myself. When I ask to be alone, it is not because I don’t want to be with him, it’s because I want to feel closer to the girl he fell for. It’s because I want to be reminded of all the little things that make me, me.
In truth, I feel closest to him when I feel the most like myself–the girl who grew into the woman my kids call mom and he calls wife. The girl who read fantasy novels in the company of lit candles and sunlight, who spent hours on self-care, working out, listening to music, and working in a field she was passionate about.
My husband fell in love so fast with that girl and understands keeping her alive means giving me the space to be her. I give him the same space to be the silly, light-hearted boy I first bonded with all those years ago over pop punk bands and our favorite ’90s Disney movies. He makes sure I get to read and write while drinking coffee in the backyard, so I make sure he gets to play video games and take solo drives on sunny days. We take turns taking the lead with our kids to give each other the most precious gift we can as often as we can, our time.
As parents, we know all too well just how much it costs. Doing the laundry can cost the dishes. A child’s recital can cost us a much-needed overtime shift. Signing up for the PTA can cost volunteering for Girl Scouts. Having a third baby can cost you sleep and acquiescing to the constant demands of three small humans will cost your sanity too many days to count.
Luckily for us, our partnership is the currency our sanity depends on, and our marriage pays us back in spades. We know that when we get lost in this maze of life (and we all get lost sometimes), we can rely on each other to remind us of who we are when we forget. We’ve done it in countless ways on countless days.
So, we will continue to prioritize our time alone even before our date nights together, because for us, marriage in this season means safeguarding each other’s identity. It means always making sure we still feel like ourselves deep down inside this family we created. Even though our faces will change and youth will fade, we will choose to keep our favorite things about each other . . . His humor, my laugh. My love of books, his love of music.
After all, we are still just as much the boy and girl who fell in love as we are the unified parents who choose to stay there.
by Jenny Vanderberg Shannon 
by Brea Schmidt 
by Rachel Kosar 
