Anne* (32) never imagined herself as the marrying type, but three years in, she’s surprised by how deeply in love she’s become. Still, as conversations around children start creeping in, she wonders if she’s ready to share her marriage with anyone else.
In this week’s Marriage Diaries, she talks about falling for the only man she’s ever dated, why she’s not ready to tick the motherhood box just yet, and how marriage has brought out a softer, more intentional version of herself.
This is a look into Anne’s marriage diary.
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I didn’t grow up dreaming of a wedding dress or a man waiting at the altar
To be honest, I didn’t think much about what marriage would look like, not because I wasn’t interested, but because I just never saw myself in it. I could imagine my friends, siblings, or even random people online getting married, but not me.
Growing up, I wasn’t drawn to romance at all. I used to cringe at anything that seemed remotely romantic. I didn’t get too close to the boys around me either. I can’t explain why exactly. Maybe now, as an adult, I can say I’ve never really been the biggest fan of men. But back then, I just didn’t care for romantic love.
Maybe that came from the kind of marriage I saw growing up. My parents had a long-distance setup for most of my childhood. My dad was abroad while my mum raised us and ran her business here in Nigeria. There wasn’t a lot of physical affection between them, so I didn’t grow up with the usual “mummy and daddy love” picture in my head. You could even say my mum found companionship in her business more than in her marriage.
So when I say it still shocks me that I have a husband — and a marriage that’s lasted three years — I mean it. My husband is the first person I ever dated, and the only man I’ve ever kissed, hugged or been romantically involved with. It’s like God knew I wouldn’t care for any other man and just sent me one that felt made for me.
I’m not sure I want kids. And I don’t know if that’s allowed
My husband and I agreed early on that we’d enjoy our marriage for a few years before having kids. And we’ve kept that promise; we’ve done life on our own terms for three years now.
But lately, he’s been dropping hints about wanting to move into that next phase. And that’s where I’ve started to feel uneasy. The thing is, I don’t know if I want kids. At least not right now. I’ve tried to convince myself it’s because of the economy, that we need to plan carefully before bringing a child into this madness. But even deeper than that, something in me doesn’t feel like motherhood should be the next step yet.
We’re comfortable now. We both earn decent salaries. We travel, take spontaneous trips, go on late-night dates, and work remotely from random states — we have this beautiful freedom. I’m not sure I want to disrupt that yet. But then the guilt comes. I’m 32. What if I get to 35 or 40 and finally want kids, and my body says no? What if I wait too long and regret it?
These are the things nobody really tells you about when you’re getting married, how the decision to have kids, or not, can suddenly feel like the biggest, most terrifying thing in the world.
People don’t talk enough about the fear of losing your marriage to parenthood
I know it sounds selfish, but I feel so protective of this current phase because I am so deeply in love with my husband.
We’re in sync. We’re partners in the realest sense of the word. And I’m not sure I’m ready to share him with anyone, not even our future children. Some people may not understand that, but it’s the truth. I’ve never had anyone treat me the way he does. I remember when I had an accident and was bedridden. He’d come over after work, sleep over and leave the next morning to freshen up and go to the office. He cleaned me when I couldn’t move, changed my pads when I was on my period, wiped my bum and still made jokes through it all. Never once did he look at me with disgust.
I think of those moments and wonder, how do you not become obsessed with someone who loves you like that? He takes ten steps for every five I take. With kids, what if the dynamics shift? What if our spontaneity dies? I don’t think people talk enough about this fear. Most of the time, I keep it to myself because I know how people can be. “You’re in your 30s, what are you waiting for?” they’ll say. But this love is precious to me. It’s not something I want to dilute with expectations I’m not emotionally ready for.
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I had no idea his kindness ran this deep
Before marriage, I knew he was a nice guy. But a part of me thought he was just performing because he was around me. He always told me about his rough childhood and how he didn’t want others to go through what he did. I used to roll my eyes when he said things like that.
But after marriage, I realised it wasn’t a performance. This man shows up for everyone — me, his family, my family. He goes out of his way to help people, even when it’s inconvenient. It’s a part of him that’s rooted in pain, but he’s turned it into something good.
I really admire that about him. It’s a rare kind of selflessness that only someone who has known deep hardship can offer. He reminds me that some people really do try to make love out of their pain.
Love is not enough, but it still needs to be in the room
Do I think love is enough to sustain a marriage? Not on its own. You need other things — intentionality, kindness, patience, selflessness. But love must still be present.
I’ve heard stories of people who didn’t even love their partners when they got married, and somehow, the love came. If that’s possible, then it tells me that love is the glue. All the other things help it stay strong, but it must be there first.
And in my marriage, it’s here. It’s very present. It’s the reason I’m scared of what comes next. I don’t want anything to shift the balance we’ve worked so hard to build.
*Name has been changed to protect the identity of the subject.
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