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Goodness me.  Did you really click on this post thinking that I have the secret to a blissful ten years of marriage? Lol.

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No, it hasn’t been pure bliss.  But, when I looked across the restaurant table at this gorgeous man last week, as we ate from the charcuterie plate and waited for our steak and oysters (such a treat), on the occasion of our tenth wedding anniversary, after extricating ourselves from the house and abandoning our lovely babysitter to our five children (for literally the first time ever–that’s right, we have never had a babysitter for all five before!) and immediately before I got called to serve a client, (was I totally insane to think we could actually enjoy one single peaceful dinner in an entire decade? Yes! Yes I was!) I did think to myself, I love him.  And I do.

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This may sound simplistic or obvious, but when I consider my own horrific first marriage, and when I look around at, sadly, a number of my friends’ and acquaintances’ relationships, my advice (the “secret”, if you will) would be:

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Try to get together with someone that you don’t despise.  Finding them attractive is fairly important.  And be lucky.

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Lee and I have had our ups and downs, but if pressed, I would say that the overall key to ten relatively great (at least exciting?) years of marriage, is that we’re still here, and we don’t hate each other, and somehow, the passion remains.  We cultivate the passion, sure (a little bit, anyway).  But it was always present in abundance to cultivate. We also have a remarkably equitable relationship, and one of the big hints that clued me into Lee’s ability to be equitable, and most importantly, to respect my bodily autonomy as a woman, was the way that he responded when I informed him that I would be giving birth at home.

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On our very first date, (skinny-dipping at Tea Lake outside of Halifax), we established, mutually, that we would have children together. It was an inevitability (love at first sight, really). I didn’t ask him what he thought about homebirth, and I didn’t request his permission.  I wasn’t raised to have any respect at all for chauvinism or misogyny (thanks Mum).  I simply said, “by the way, I’ll be giving birth to them at home, I don’t have anything to do with hospitals.”

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At that, Lee blinked, and then his eyes sparkled a little bit, and he said, “Ok!”. Not resignedly, not fearfully, just with an unspoken deference to my superior authority on the subject.

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And that was that.

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We don’t have a perfect relationship, not by a long shot.  But after royally messing up my youth thanks to making decisions about entering relationships despite many many red flags, I have developed a keen sense for believing people when they reveal in both subtle and overt ways, who they really are.

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The way your male partner responds to your expressing your authority over your body and your birth process is highly telling.  Pay attention.

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I don’t think that everyone should stay married.  I think a good many people should get divorced in fact.  But I am grateful for, if not proud of, my marriage to Lee.  We have been through a lot.  He is good.  We are both tolerant of each others’ foibles.

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(And yes, I do derive enormous pleasure from being able to disprove the naysayers who, I’m sure, put money on the prediction that we wouldn’t last inside a year. So there!!)

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Yay us!

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(I am *actually* working on perfecting the draft of my book *right now*.  It’s called “The Freebirth Manifesto: Wild Pregnancy, Ecstatic Birth”–it’s part guidebook, part philosophical treatise, and part memoir, all about the insights I’ve gleaned and the experiences I’ve had in the world of independent homebirth, and I’m genuinely proud of it, and so excited to share it… very soon!  If you’d like to receive updates about the book, or notices when my new podcast hits, join my list here.)

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I also do private Skype coaching for those interested in exploring freebirth, and overcoming birth fears. Check out my package here.