Secrets to a successful marriage

A mutual agreement
Brad, it turns out, ended up in the same place by a different route: a middle school teacher, he says he can often spot children of divorce by a vulnerability in their eyes and manner. And so, for the sake of our children (and their children to come) we put down our weapons and slowly, awkwardly negotiated a truce.

Most significantly, we agreed to bar the door against divorce -- it was time to stop looking for an escape route. It meant we suddenly had to become a whole lot more creative about resolving our differences. We'd have to trade the old arsenal -- screaming matches followed by icy silence followed by simmering contempt -- to give peace a chance.

Suddenly the skills our marriage counsellor had tried to develop in us -- reflective listening, daily compliments, monthly date nights, time-outs after our disagreements -- seemed relevant.

Slow and steady change
Things didn't change overnight. For a long time after Brad returned, the children walked on eggshells. They recognized the fragility of our reunion. If one of us so much as arched an eyebrow at the other, we felt their rising anxiety as if it were a physical presence. They bristled at the mildest disagreements.

We told them that we wouldn't promise not to fight in front of them, but we would let them in on the peacemaking process. If they saw us argue -- and by God, we could be fierce -- they would also see us kiss and make up.

There was no small magic in this strategy. But it turned out that in the course of trying to do the right thing by our kids, we did the right thing by our relationship. As the months passed, the time between angry words and gentle apologies shortened. Studied kindness grew into genuine affection and, finally, renewed love.

Making an effort
We practised modelling peace and forgiveness, making an extra effort to negotiate even minor issues to a successful conclusion in front of the kids. We counted to 10 -- sometimes to 110 -- and went for walks to gather our thoughts and muster solutions when we felt angry and critical; and we tried hard to resolve and contain our issues so that yesterday's grievances didn't spill over into today's.

And then one day we realized we weren't practising anymore. We had absorbed the very lessons we were trying to teach. Still, we are not saints.

Together forever
We continue to fret, bicker and generally drive each other to distraction. But as Brad recently observed, “It's like we passed through a storm in a small boat: the water's still a little choppy, but it's nothing we can't handle now. Not smooth sailing but fun sailing.” Our children have taken to calling us Darcy and Elizabeth, after Jane Austen's famously stubborn romantic couple.

As the 20th-century English journalist G.K. Chesterton has wryly observed, “Fairy tales promise husbands and wives will live happily ever after -- though not necessarily peaceably.” I have no doubt that Brad and I are destined to live a fairy-tale marriage: together forever -- but not without a fight.

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