To the Wife of the Momma's Boy

To be fair, I wouldn't label my husband a "momma's boy". The traditional meaning seems to have a negative connotation; clingy, whiny, not masculine, everything my husband is not. But if it means he respects and honors his mother, then momma's boy it is. My husband had a very unique upbringing where he spent most of his childhood and adolescence traveling the country in a bus, singing southern gospel with his family from church to church. He and his sister were both home schooled, so they got to spend a generous amount of time together as a family. Being the 4th of six kids myself, family was always a top priority for me, and it's one of the things that attracted me to Brad in the first place.

Our very first date was a hot day spent at the Iowa State Fair. We walked from attraction to attraction, ever aware of the other attraction that was growing between us. He tried to hold my hand, I giggled and played hard to get...but not too hard to get. After eating our fill of fried food and a skyline ride later, we rested our feet on a bench in the shade. I don't know how we got to the topic of marriage, (Brad likes to close his deals fast!) but soon we were talking about the possibilities of the future with stars in our eyes.

"Are you going to love your kids or your wife more?" I tested the waters.

"My wife, for sure." He passed. "I think if you have a strong marriage, you have a strong family," he added. Question after question we dove into each other, exploring our values and beliefs. How was this man single, I thought. He was everything I wanted. Three months later we were engaged.

A few months before our wedding, his mom was due to have bilateral knee replacement surgery. We were down in Missouri visiting, and it was the last time we would see her before the operation.

"Everything will be fine," I smiled as I hugged her goodbye. Then it was Brad's turn. He wrapped his momma in a bear hug and squeezed her longer than I had ever seen.

"I love you," he whispered as he pulled away. There were tears in his eyes and it was the first time I had ever seen him cry. I felt strange in that moment, my heart went out to this man that I loved, but I also felt like I was intruding on an intimate moment where I didn't belong. The relationship between a daughter-in-law and her mother-in-law is a sensitive give and take. You want so badly for her to approve of you, to think you're good enough for her baby boy she's poured her whole life into. At the same time there's an unspoken competition for his heart. I wanted Brad to praise everything I ever cooked him, I wanted to fold his underwear perfectly and vacuum the house everyday and make sure he never ran out of toilet paper. I wanted him to hug me like that, to cry over me because he loved me so much.

Fast forward to just a few months later and we're swimming in the deep end of the newlywed pool. Barely keeping our heads above the water, we lived 3 hours away from my family, 8 hours from his, and surviving in a tiny 1-bedroom apartment. He was working retail and I was a full-time nursing student and part-time waitress. We were trying to find our routine, and stepping on each other's toes. One night before Brad got off work, I was determined to make the best homemade dinner he had ever tasted. I ended up burning the garlic bread until it was black, and somehow managed to use every item of cookware we had in preparing the meal. Our romantic evening turned into washing dishes all night. I felt defeated, embarrassed. What was I doing wrong? I meticulously cleaned the apartment every week, I packed my husband's lunch every day, and I color-coordinated the towels in the bathroom. I mean, isn't this what being a good wife looks like!?

Over the next few years and a lot of grace, we started stepping on toes less, and dancing more. We discovered each other's love languages, and started communicating in a way that respected our relationship. We were finally finding our rhythm, and because God seems to have a sense of humor, we got pregnant. We had our baby boy after a difficult, 48 hour labor. As I was recovering in the hospital, I saw the fruit of our commitment blossom in the way my husband cared for me at my worst. Just as he had embraced and cried over his mother before surgery, he kissed and cried over me after mine.

So here's a lesson I've learned after being married for 6 years and having a son of my own: It's true what they say, a man will treat his wife how he treats his mother. If he disrespects her, belittles her, yells at her, or ignores her, he will eventually do the same to you. However, if a man takes the time to visit his mother, if he hugs her hello and goodbye, if he calls her about exciting news, if he's patient and gentle with her, then he will be the same with his wife.

To the wife of the momma's boy:

Let him call her. Let them talk. Let him tell her what he's excited about and what's troubling him. One day she won't be on the other end of the phone anymore, and she's the woman who raised this man you love so much.

Learn her recipes. I'm still trying to master the cheesy potato casserole myself, but if you learn a few of his favorite meals, it will always give him a taste of home.

Speak kindly of her. It's so tempting to want to commiserate with your husband, no matter who or what he's gossiping about, but if you can encourage each other to tame your tongues, it only benefits your marriage as he will be less inclined to speak about you to other people.

Tell her thank you. Soon enough this woman will become the grandmother to your children, the competition fades away, and you begin to appreciate each other as fellow mothers.

Know that he will cherish you forever. Your husband's mom has a huge influence on how he treats women. My mother-in-law invested her whole life into her children. Raising them in the Word, teaching them respect, and setting an example of love and sacrifice. If you're lucky enough to marry a momma's boy, you will reap the seeds she carefully sewed in his heart.

I have a 4 month old son now. I know that I will probably be be a mother-in-law someday, and I pray for my son's future wife. I pray that her parents are raising her to be a godly woman, just as her parents might be praying for us. I hope they're praying for a momma's boy.

*Amazing photos taken by Sweet Little You Photography