I used to wake up from dreams featuring former flames or bizarre mashups of past partners. My friend looked at me with a knowing expression and said, “Oh, dear, those dreams don’t fade away just because you’re married.” How naive I had been, believing that tying the knot would somehow transform my inner landscape.
During my single days, I viewed marriage as the ultimate solution: I thought, once married, loneliness would vanish. I envisioned a sense of purpose flooding my life, anxiety being a distant memory, and a newfound ability to connect effortlessly with others at social gatherings. I believed I would forget my past loves. Of course, none of that came to fruition. Yes, I’m happier now, feeling more secure and supported, but the idea that marriage would eliminate all doubts and fears was misguided. Even now, I can tear up when a song brings back memories of a past relationship, and my dreams often reflect the bittersweet nature of life’s fleeting moments.
Just last week, I dreamt of kissing an unfamiliar boy, both of us young and carefree, and upon waking, I felt deflated, realizing that such thrilling discoveries may never come my way again.
Some people experience wild behavior before marriage—maybe they’ll go out with a stripper or impulsively change their hairstyle. I didn’t do any of that. I had waited a long time for marriage, and the thought of committing to one person didn’t frighten me. Yet, I sometimes feel a pang of fear when something from my subconscious rises to the surface, reminding me that my youthful beginnings are over. I’m now in the midst of my life, and soon enough, it will come to an end.
If marrying is akin to purchasing the coffin for your youth and freedom, then having a child is like driving the final nail in. (Metaphorically speaking, of course; modern coffins likely have sophisticated latches, but I avoid funeral parlors.) Becoming a parent undeniably highlights one’s mortality. As comedian Jerry Seinfeld once quipped, “I adore my baby, but let’s be clear—these little ones are here to replace us. They’re adorable and cuddly, but they want us out of the picture.” The thrill of new experiences is now my son’s domain. It’s a natural progression; I’ve relinquished my youth to him.
Still, I know there are joys ahead that aren’t confined to youth: the satisfaction of home improvement, watching my son blossom, and cherishing long-lasting relationships. However, it’s a strange and poignant experience to witness my own aging, to understand intellectually that time has passed while still vividly reliving the exhilarating moments of discovering a new romance in my dreams. In these dreams, I embody both my current self and an ageless emotional being. The thought of this timeless self trapped within a decaying body, yearning to break free, is unsettling. This part of me resists yielding to the next generation.
It was this part of me that bristled when one of my brightest students corrected my spelling. In a moment of distraction, I had written “r-h-i-n-o-c-e-r-o-u-s” on the board. I scolded myself for the blunder; I knew better. Sure, I have my flaws—I’m not athletic, I battle anxiety, I can be irritable, and I sometimes struggle socially—but I could spell! I even participated in the National Spelling Bee! In my mind, I was the reigning Spelling Queen, ruling from a throne adorned with dictionaries and the skins of less fortunate competitors. Suddenly, this ambitious twelve-year-old, on his way to the National Bee, had knocked me off my pedestal.
Just like that, the student became the teacher. I fell, flailing and complaining, as if in slow motion—much like how I feel I’m aging in general. Yet, the beauty of being married is having a partner to share that fall with, to face fears together. “I misspelled ‘rhinoceros,’ I’ll never experience new love again, my knees creak going up stairs, and I can’t remember anything!” I lament, and he simply takes my hand. He understands.
For more insights on family planning and the journey into parenthood, you can explore topics on artificial insemination or check out fertility myths for more information. Also, March of Dimes offers excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, marriage doesn’t erase the complexities of our emotional lives or our dreams. While I navigate the journey of motherhood and aging, I find that my youthful spirit remains, eager for experiences yet to come.