I was married five years before I became a wife.

My story of surrendering and wholeheartedly choosing to love the man I married.

As a little girl, I never fantasized about my wedding or designed a dream man, but I always assumed I’d get married someday. That’s what people do when they grow up, right? For me, that fateful wedding day occurred in September 2018, but I didn’t really become a wife until 2023. Let me explain…

Blessed with intellectual gifts, I was the poster child of an empowered woman, sailing through boarding school, engineering college, and Ivy League graduate school. I started teaching Biomedical Engineering at Yale on my 28th birthday, and I continued to be recruited to jobs of elevated prestige and pay. Even though I appeared relatively humble on the outside, the societal praise seeped into and fed my ego to the point where I thought I knew better than everyone, including the brilliant man, Donald, who was brave enough to court and marry me. I was a willing and enthusiastic bride, yes, but I covertly thought he was the lucky one, and I directed our married life.

When I was pregnant with our first child in 2019, we agreed that whoever liked their job better and/or made more money would continue working, and the other would quit their job and be the primary parent. Perfectly logical, right? And guess what; at the time, I really liked my venture capital gig and had higher pay, so Don quit his nuclear engineering job when I came off maternity leave… on March 1, 2020.

Yes, we made this big life change right at the precipice of the COVID-19 pandemic, and the macro environment (and lack of sleep courtesy of our newborn) certainly played a role in how our marriage dynamics evolved. In addition to taking care of our daughter, Don had started a woodworking and furniture-making business, which I now see had very low odds of success given the limited time he had to devote to it and the craziness of the world around us. Plus, becoming a mother really downgraded that venture capital job I had liked so much, and I longed to spend more leisurely time with my gorgeous baby, Omi.

My beauty girl, who cracked open my heart in the most incredible ways.

Then a curveball; I learned I was pregnant days after Omi’s 9 month birthday. Wow, I guess breastfeeding isn’t foolproof birth control after all. I felt simultaneously overjoyed and terrified of the thought of two under two; how could I continue working this high-stress job with not one, but two demanding little ones? But it felt like there was no other option, as Don’s woodworking business was far from making money. So I bore the outrageous pain of nighttime pregnant breastfeeding and tried to get myself excited for the new life - a boy - growing inside me.

Little did I know that sore nipples paled in the face of what was to come. I started spotting, called my saintly midwife, and then the kind people in the hospital confirmed that the baby inside of me was dead. This whirlwind was the day before Omi’s first birthday. After I tearfully nursed her to sleep, a bloody fetus slipped out of me, and my bereaved husband fished out his dead son from the toilet. Deep, deep grief, mixed with relief and gratitude for the lives we do have. All I remember about Omi’s first birthday is fiercely snuggling with her and beholding her with a newly reverent gaze. What a gift I have, being a mother to a precious daughter…

In hindsight, I’m glad I let myself grieve freely for that loss. God certainly comforted me in the shadows, and perhaps that event was needed for me to slow down and really start feeling and listening. Though I’d always prided myself on my strength and “emotional control,” I found that my marriage grew stronger as I let myself be weak. I didn’t have any answers, but I had a sturdy husband to cry on and a beautiful little girl to hug. And God didn’t let much time go by before gifting us a healthy baby boy, Arthur, born at home in early 2022.

My little sage, who continues to bestow so much comfort and wisdom.

This birth excavated new depths of femininity in me, and that job that I hadn’t liked since my first birth now felt unbearable. I had to get out, as soon as possible, but there was still that pesky problem of income. Don’s woodworking business was still far from supporting us financially, and I wanted to remain in my job for five years to unlock 75% of an accruing exit bonus (that would be equivalent to a year’s salary).

I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to lean harder into what I did know: nag. I cajoled Don to work harder, smarter, differently. I made it clear that I was unhappy being the breadwinner and wanted him to change so that he could support us and I could be a kept woman and stay-at-home mother. I shamed him for what I perceived as “not hustling” and tried to “help” him as much as possible. In short, I emasculated him.

Despite what we see on TV, this “wife telling the husband what to do” dynamic is insidiously destructive for all parties involved. When I assumed the masculine quality of directing, I forced my husband into the feminine role of receiving, and then I felt ugly and undesired when he naturally did not try to pursue me. I became the boss he wanted to dodge, not the sanctuary of his wife, and unspoken disappointments and resentments grew. Our marriage wasn’t great, but it wasn’t overtly terrible (especially with the joyful and consuming distractions of our young children), so we kept soldiering on, wondering if this was the best it gets and we should just accept things as they are. At least we had more money than we knew what to do with!

WFH office, complete with a baby. I can do it all, right?!

And then grace intervened. In early 2023, a longtime friend invited me to Mastering Motherhood, a faith-based gathering of women supporting each other through the trials and successes of motherhood. I was blown away as soon as I was warmly greeted by beautiful smiling women and presented a free, expansive brunch: such a sharp contrast from the hypermasculine, tech-focused investment world I’d been in for many years. In a church hall with over fifty kindhearted women, of varying ages and stages, all bowing their heads in prayer before eagerly leading book discussion groups, I felt like I could finally relax, at least a little bit. These women were clearly sustained by an energy bigger than themselves - from my best estimation, from Jesus - and I was extremely curious. Around the same time, another friend recommended a book entitled “The Surrendered Wife,” which showed me how consciously and unconsciously mean and belittling I’ve been to my husband over the years. A few weeks later, my whole family went to a nondenominational Christian church, and when the music started, I cried joyfully in the dark. I felt like I was home, finally.

In the last year and a half, I’ve learned so much about Christianity and how distinct it is from the robotic Catholicism I grew up with. Most importantly, I’ve observed the fruits of Christian living, witnessing overtly generous, humble, and loving families and befriending authentically kindhearted women. My husband and I instantly adopted weekly church attendance, attended a Christian marriage group, and we were baptized in May 2023. It’s hard to describe the freedom I felt publicly renouncing my worldly ways in favor of following Jesus, but I can look back and see how quickly things changed after that event. I was filled with faith: faith in my husband, faith in God, faith in my community, and soon thereafter, I set up a meeting with the CEO of my company to quit my job. Don and I didn’t have a solid plan, but I knew that once I quit, we’d have a year’s salary to live on while we figured out how to stand up other income streams to take care of our family. More importantly, I truly felt that money did not matter nearly as much as our sanity and marriage.

But God wasn’t done humoring me. One fateful summer evening, I walked deep into the woods to speak with the CEO, who informed me that if I were to quit now, I would not get the exit package I believed was contractually owed. I felt like my guts had been cut out; the “runway” I’d been dreaming about for years was suddenly wrenched away. I mumbled apologies, told the CEO that I’d keep working at my post, and stumbled back to tell my husband that my carefully devised plan was suddenly moot. I thought I’d lined up the chess board in my favor, and I felt defeated and mildly humiliated. Yet, the next day, I wrote in my journal that I had full faith in God that this is happening for me, not to me, and I listed the things I felt renewed gratitude for, including my husband, my health, and children who love me.

I spent the next few months feeling an unexpected freedom from my best-laid plan, riding the waves of a forced surrender. I had been defeated, and I couldn’t figure this out with my old tools of intellect and strategy. Instead I relaxed into reading mythology, Scripture, and folklore, seeing the repeating arcs and archetypes playing out in my own life. Contextualizing my suffering into the greater human experience gave me comfort, and a sermon in August showed me that I was relying far too hard on Donald to make me happy and feel better, and instead I should surrender, loosen control, and rely on my Heavenly Father who loves me even more than I love my kids. Whoa. I realized that my desires for fast timelines, skillful moves, and cushy bank accounts were all forms of idolatry that are making me angry, frustrated, resentful, and fast to blame those that “aren’t helping me” or are “getting in my way.” I implored Jesus to heal me and transplant my heart, to replace my default mode of hurry with the ability to behold the endless beauty in my life.

And then, a week later, I was laid off from my job. Slightly surprised, but not shocked, I felt overwhelmingly happy, grateful, and relieved when I was told that I would stay on for a few more months to train my replacements and would indeed receive my exit compensation. God replaced my flimsy human plan with His timeline, and He showed me that ascending to lofty career heights was not what I truly wanted now that I was a wife and a mother. As Dr. Martin Shaw teaches, my Red Phase of ambition, drive, and individualism was lasting too long, morphing into egoism, and it was time to deepen into my Black Phase of soul, empathy, and wisdom. Additionally, the disappearance of my cushy job reset Don and me into our natural gender roles and powered him up; the day after I was laid off, he charged into his Brazilian Jiu Jitsu gym and beat guys that had always submitted him. And I immediately felt my heart softening and expanding when I hugged my beautiful children, not in a hurry, no longer trying to mother between meetings.

My emotions were a roller coaster as we hit our five year wedding anniversary in September 2023, oscillating between worrying about D’s lack of income as my last day of work loomed and feeling excited for the unknown path ahead that I no longer would lead. He had small wins coming in with his woodworking business, but nothing sustainable that came close to matching the income we had from my job. My last paycheck was coming up fast; would we be able to pay our mortgage? I began praying more consistently as anxiety crept in, noting the fast turnarounds from despair to hopefulness, and tried my best not to tell Don what to do.

Then one random morning, Don told me that he was going to apply for engineering jobs, aiming to get something remote so he could have a steady paycheck and work on the wood business on the side. Eureka! Why hadn’t we thought of this in all the years we’d struggled?! I applauded his brilliant plan and enjoyed watching my husband remember his greatness, garnering multiple six figure job offers and eventually choosing a naval engineering role that was fully remote and offered very high earning potential.

And that takes us to January 2024, when Don started working 40+ hours a week to provide all the income and benefits we need, and I get to relax into womanhood and intentionally lead our children’s days. It took me several months to calm down and embrace this new way of life, detoxing from constant email checking and the need to control, but I’m happy to say that making this countercultural, wife- and mother-first shift has been more than worth it. I know this because I’ve been offered many compelling jobs - including a CEO position - since I exited the career world, and each opportunity was an easy “no.” Sometimes I can’t believe how fortunate I am, now meditating and praying upon waking (instead of hustling), greeting the morning light, hugging my daughter when she comes down the stairs all bleary eyed, and lifting my smiling son out of his cozy crib for a slow breakfast. We meet with friends on playgrounds, hikes, or beaches most mornings, and our activities follow our natural rhythms and daily desires.

Does it get better than this?

Notably, this pace allows me to truly feel gratitude, an emotion I’d chased for decades in my Red striving era (mostly because of the “scientifically-proven benefits”). But as I’ve realized in many aspects of my life, these elevated states of being are not obtained by adding in more actions, but instead by subtracting distractions, slowing down, and beholding what has been in front of me the whole time. In the last few months, I’m more genuinely thankful for relationships, especially my marriage.

In retrospect, I had indeed been blocking my husband from rising up and claiming his masculine power with my overdoing and constant “helping,” and when I surrendered my breadwinner role and began honoring my feminine impulses, both of us expanded and revealed new truths and capacities. My surrender has been multilayered and interrelated: to God, to husband, to vocation. With refreshed eyes, I see Don’s strength, leadership, and devotion, and I am watching his confidence and creativity continue to grow. I can now delight in my children, seeing them as God’s expressions of beauty, purity, and unbridled love instead of something to manage in order to “get things done.” Since I’m less hurried, I can actually listen to people and offer help from a place of abundance, strengthening existing friendships and growing my community. I’m fortunate to be surrounded by many women who, through various roads, are out of the career world and are now on the stay-at-home-mother/naptime-creator path, and it’s lovely to see our souls reconstituted as we relax into motherhood and wifehood. And this beautiful environment provides a positive feedback loop in which I become more feminine, and thus more relaxed and trusting of my husband, and ultimately a true wife.