When I got married, no one prepared me for what it was really going to be like. I had seen my parents fight and argue of course, but I figured that was not going to be me. After all, they were the products of an arranged marriage while I — progressive Asian woman that I was — intended to find no less than my perfect match.
My daydreams consisted of my future husband and I cooking together (while laughing with one another of course), doing the dishes together (while gently teasing one another), travelling together and otherwise “completing” one another. A perfect blend of the mundane and exciting. We would go together like peas and carrots, living harmoniously in a white picket fence house with a cute dog and eventually adding two adorably docile children.
Fast forward and eventually I did get married in picturesque Hawaii on a golden beach. There is no happily ever after though. We are still together and have been married ten years as of October 2020. We have laughed together, cried together, fought with one another and loved one another.
Three dogs and two kids later, I look back at my forty years of life and can honestly indicate that one of the biggest lies I bought into when I was younger was the idea of equality in a marriage. It is a nice idea, but one that I believe is seriously hard to put into practice. Especially once you add children into the mix. They require care — so who is going to provide it? During maternity leave, it felt only fair that I do most of the nightly wake ups as a) I had to pump / breastfeed the child anyway, and b) he had to go to work in the morning. For the rest of my maternity leave, I changed the majority of the diapers, made most of the meals and did all the laundry under the impression that once I returned to work, we could even out the load. We had both agreed equality was important after all, and he professed to supporting my career even if we had children.
Sounds nice, but what will equality look like in reality? Who was going to bathe the child each night? Who will cook dinners? We were so busy, we barely had time to eat never mind cooking together. My husband works in healthcare and I found him constantly putting work first. Late nights, evening calls, weekend calls… which meant I had to do all of the things I mentioned above, as well as try to perform at my job as a lawyer. On the very occasional night I wanted to go out with a friend, or attend a class, my husband would text me to come home early. He was struggling with the child or vice versa. Either way, my child was not dealing well with my absence and apparently inconsolable.
This load — mental and physical — only increased as the years went on. Who dropped off and picked up the child from pre-school? Me. Because he was often in the operating room. That meant I had to work late to make up for the missed time only to be snapped at by my husband for not being home on time to eat dinner. Who picked out gifts for Suzy’s birthday or even his colleague’s party? Me. Why? I have no idea. I recall one day I said “enough” and refused to write a card to his family. He got upset until I pointed out they mostly communicated in French, a language that I neither knew how to read or write so he might as well craft something.
We fought about having a second child. Guess which side of the argument I was on? NO. No, I did not want to add to my burden. I was already working about 40–45 hours a week. It was already very hard to ensure that our one child was getting enough attention, never mind two. From Monday to Friday, I had only three hours between 5:30 and 8:30 pm to cook, feed, bath, read and put the child to bed. How could we add a second child? Eventually, somehow, he won the argument and we had a second.
My maternity leave was spent packing up boxes as we moved twice almost within 18 months. We had upsized to a brand new big house, but after our son was born, I had the nagging feeling I would not be able to work for much longer. I finally managed to convince my husband to sell it so we could move into a rental we had owned before. It would be cheaper — indeed, even mortgage free if we paid off some debts. So we moved and paid off the mortgage of the smaller, older home. I went back to work for nearly a year, then the pandemic hit.
Schools closed, daycares closed, and I was at my wit’s end trying to work from home. At night, I was also furiously scanning blogs and websites trying to figure out why my nearly two year old was not saying a word. Autism? Asperger’s? Cognitive delays? He was born a day shy of 27 weeks weighing only 1.8 pounds so I knew he was at a higher risk of developmental delays. Was it just the lack of bonding between us? He did after all prefer his nanny to me. The stress caught up with me and I got sick with symptoms matching that of Covid 19. I had to quarantine away from my family, and for the first time in years, got a chance to spend a few days in bed to really think about my life.
I realized that I had to give up on the idea of equality for my marriage. Some lucky people, including friends of mine, have relationships that seem a lot more quid pro quo but as much as I emulated them, I could not mirror it in my relationship. My husband’s work, whether his fault or mine, was taking precedence. We made almost the same salary but he earned approximately 20 thousand more per annum. So I guess it made sense that we went with his work as the “career to support”.
He also, quite frankly, cared less about the kids. To put it more nicely, we can say he is more laid-back. While I would be questioning delays, he was just as sure the child will eventually get there. This could be true, but my internal drive could never leave it to chance. It causes huge angst in me to leave anything to ‘chance’. God helps those who help themselves is a motto I believe in. While my husband looked at his laptop in the evenings, I would be looking up “how to help with speech delays”. I increased the number of books I read to my son, and spoke to him incessantly while encouraging him to watch my mouth form words as I enunciated for dear life.
Daily, I would also read to my daughter, and sit beside her as she practiced piano to make sure she hit the right notes. Dinner, bath time, bedtime… sometimes my husband could help, other times he was too busy. I felt I had to be ready to pick up any and all falling pieces all the time.
This is not to say he is a “bad” person or even a “bad” father. I think to his mind, he was doing his best to provide for us financially, paying for said piano lessons, books and more. I just don’t think it ever occurred to him that had he pitched in with the family more, I could have stayed working and pitched in financially more.
He says we are equal and that I have access to funds, but as a former divorce attorney, I understand more than most just who is the primary account holder and what that means. What it means is that if we divorce, I have no career to fall back on. I will at best have a year or two of re-training and then perhaps find an employer willing to give me a chance to re-join labour force after many years of exile from it. Out of practice and out of date, I know that it will not be easy. He’ll have to pay me some support of course as I inevitably try to put two and two back together but my earning power will forever be scarred and shrivelled next to someone who has never left the job market.
Still, although not quite equal, I am luckier than most. Even though I feel he does not “do enough” regarding the children, and is unreliable when it comes to our family time, we are both on the same page about what the children need. Good food, good education, a chance to explore interests, and opportunities to hopefully grow into themselves enough to soar independently. I just resent the fact that it is mostly me who has to carve out the energy and time to foster all those good things. It literally makes me bitter. Maybe I am a bad wife or a bad mother for thinking that way, but that is genuinely how I feel.
Now, nearly one year into my “early retirement” and more than a year into the pandemic, the children are more than okay. My attempts to help them thrive through a difficult time have been successful beyond my hopes. My six year old daughter C recently won a coveted piano award for her debut performance. My two and a half year old son S is now a chatterbox in two languages and can read 13 words without any picture prompts. I am not saying that I am the cause of their success, but I am saying I know it would not have happened without me committing as much time as I have to them either.
Nearly 18 years ago in University, I would have scoffed at the idea of ever being married to a doctor and being a homemaker. Even though I realize how important a job it is, I nonetheless feel as though my hand is forced. I wonder though if more woman and men had talked about how difficult it is to to achieve equality all the time… would it have been easier for me to accept. I wonder if I knew in advance, the impossibility of ‘having it all’ and ‘all at once’ would I be understanding towards my own sacrifices?
Not all marriages are unequal in the same way as mine. I am positive that there are ever increasing stay-at-home dads too. As Anne-Marie Slaughter wrote in her book Unfinished Business: Women Men Work Family, negotiating who should do what to attend to all that is involved in a relationship can be really difficult. To my mind, however and whatever people’s relationships are like, one of the biggest lies we can tell ourselves is to expect equality at all times. Every now and then, someone has to pick up some of the fallen pieces.
Without a doubt there will be times of give and take in every relationship. In my case, I think my resentment comes from feeling like I have been doing all the giving. Giving birth, giving life, giving up my career, giving up my independence, giving up financial security, giving up intellectual stimulation…. This is not to say there have been no rewards. My children are well, and my stress levels have decreased for the most part. Still, I have one further demand. I have demanded that my husband renovate our main bathroom so that I can have a freestanding tub. I am positive a small sea of lavender scented bubbles will go a long way to soothing my temper and feelings of loss. My husband, on some level, recognizes this and has reluctantly agreed. We’ll have to wait and see if my wish will eventually be fulfilled.
