What I don’t want my son to think about my engagement

I rebelled against my parents’ views when I first got married 11 years ago, but four weeks ago I realised that I had an opportunity to show my son a different way.

It's safe to say the last six months have been unexpected on many levels. The challenges we in Melbourne now face, in Stage Four lockdown, are confronting for us alIt's safe to say the last six months have been unexpected on many levels. The challenges we in Melbourne now face, in Stage Four lockdown, are confronting for us all. Lockdown and fears for the health of those I love are one thing, but throw in a tricky balance of working, homeschooling and co-parenting with my ex-husband, and complexity has taken on a whole new meaning.

Somehow, amidst all that, I started a new relationship. Not just that, I fell in love and, through the intensity of being stuck together during a global pandemic, I managed to forge a partnership with Alex that I knew, very quickly, would be for life.

Four weeks ago we decided to get married.

This time around was much different to the last: there were no staged proposals; no expensive jewellery. I most certainly wasn’t waiting around hoping to be proposed to: it happened on the couch at home, with me in my leggings; Alex in his boxers; my hair unwashed. Exactly the way I would hope to make a joint decision to team up for life: authentically me, authentically him.

Of course, a critical element amidst the joy and excitement was how my five-year-old son would react to the news. This was a big moment for him. What did I want him to hear? How did I want him to feel and what sort of role model did I want to be?

I thought back to my upbringing.

As I planned that conversation I thought back to my upbringing and reflected on my parent’s views on marriage. My dad was a young French backpacker travelling around Australia in the 1970s when he met and fell in love with Mum at a party in St Kilda. They didn’t get engaged per se; they simply signed their papers at the town hall and had a party in their backyard after I was born (shock horror!).

Anyone who knows my mum knows she’s a raging feminist: a classic hippy from the free love era. She was appalled that I took my first husband’s surname: she didn’t take my father’s, and instilled in me to be an independent woman with my own thoughts, own career, own money and own identity that was separate to a man or children.

It’s funny because I think I rebelled against my parents’ views when I first got married 11 years ago. I was proposed to with a ring, I had a big wedding and took on the family name (as a good girl should). I stopped working as a TV producer to raise my son, and relied on my partner’s income. As the relationship disintegrated: I not only lost the marriage: I lost myself completely. That will never happen again.

Commitment is about choice.

So four weeks ago I realised that I had an opportunity to show my son a different way. I wanted him to see a strong woman making a choice to team up with someone she loves and respects, who loves and respects her in equal measure. If I think about what feminism means to me now and what I want my son to understand, it’s that commitment is about choice.

I don’t want my son to equate it with a woman waiting around to be chosen by someone; or that it has anything to do with rings, a flashy proposal or the significance of a family name. I don’t want him to feel pressured to take control of the narrative as a man. I want him to feel assured that if he loves someone, no matter what gender, they can choose to do things, together; however they like, as a team.

Of course, like any couple, Alex and I talk about the wedding, fantasising about where, who knows when (ugh COVID), but one thing I made clear from the start was that I don’t need it to be over the top. I explained to Alex that’s not what I value. No ring, burger ring... I loved him and it was OUR choice to commit to each other.

He heard me and my needs.

The most important thing my man did was listen. He heard me and my needs and I think that showed him exactly the woman I am. I want love, unequivocal and unconditional love and commitment that transcends any flashy diamond or proposal. Not to say that’s what others may be into and that’s totally fine. It’s about choice. Two people have a mature discussion about their future without any outside expectations.

I am proud to role model to my maturing young boy an equal, respectful, well-oiled partnership between Alex and I. He sees that I am my own woman, that I don’t need saving and if I choose to take Alex’s family name it's because I want to, not because it’s the right thing to do.

So we sat down my very energetic five-year-old and explained that we loved each other and him and that we wanted to be a family unit. We explained we will be getting married when we can, that it's important for him to be a part of it in any way he wishes to. Most importantly, we explained that commitment isn’t about a wedding: it’s about being partners for life and that come what may, he will always be my most important priority. He listened, taking it all in, and started getting excited... but said the kissing bit will be disgusting.

What I don’t want my son to think about my engagement is that it’s the be-all and end all of my happiness as a woman. I want him to see that I’m happy in myself, no matter what, and I hope by seeing me live my values, he will grow into his own kind of man.

This article first appeared in Kidspot.