I’m coming clean: I’ve had multiple marriages.

When I first met my husband, we were young—naive about love but passionate about our future. Life was full of hope, and everything felt possible. Our relationship was easy because life was simple.

Then came the mortgage, the kids, the careers—the heavy stuff. We became parents, professionals, and partners trying to juggle it all. Life got complicated. Stressful. Exhausting. Somewhere along the way, we stopped being carefree and started surviving.

Now, we’re empty nesters, relearning what it means to be a party of two. Life is still busy, but the pace is different. We laugh more. We travel. We enjoy each other again. He’s my favorite person… most of the time.

We’ve evolved. We’ve changed. Who we were when we said “I do” isn’t who we are today.

In fact, I’ve been married three times—to the same man: First, to our young selves. Then, to our grown-up, parenting selves. And now, to our older, wiser selves.

Someone once said it’s unrealistic to think neither partner will ever have one foot out the door—you just hope it’s not at the same time. Some days that feels painfully true. We’ve had nights without kisses or “I love yous,” going to bed with sighs and backs turned.

But still, we show up. We dig deep. We love hard. We stay committed.

Today we celebrate 30 YEARS of marriage- 10,957 days of choosing each other. Of doing the work. Of being accountable. Of growing through each of our three marriages—together.

And if I’ve learned anything in these three marriages, it’s this:
Real love isn’t about staying the same—it’s about staying. 
Marriage isn’t about never changing—because we do change.
We grow up, grow tired, grow apart, and grow back together.

Staying doesn’t mean standing still-it means choosing to keep moving forward, together. Even when we stumble. Even when we hurt. Even when we’re angry. Even when we forget how good we have it.

We’ve stayed— not because we had to, but because—deep down—we still wanted to, through every version of ourselves.

Thirty years. Three marriages. One enduring choice: to stay.

Here’s to every version of us —and every version to come. A fourth marriage? It’s possible.

And that’s something worth celebrating.