“I’ve failed you,” my husband texted me a few weeks ago. Naturally, I wondered what that meant. Did it fall under the category of “no big deal” or “I’m contacting an attorney”?
“I’ve tried to get us a reservation at a nice restaurant on Valentine’s Day, and everything is booked,” he elaborated. Phew! The “no big deal” category. We went to dinner a week early, ate delicious food, had fun being together, and there was no wait!
I was thankful that he couldn’t nail down a place for Valentine’s Day, because last Saturday went sideways. My dad was having a rough time when I showed up that morning for my daily check. Thankfully, my husband came by and helped calm things down a bit. Then I noticed my dad’s legs. He is battling cellulitis again. So I left to pick up a prescription and took it over to his caregivers. I checked on Dad again and stayed for a while. By then, it was around 5 p.m. And that was Valentine’s Day.
We Gen-Xers grew up on rock ballads. We heard Whitney Houston belt out, “Saving All My Love for You,” while White Snake asked, “Is this love that I’m feeling?” Van Halen questioned, “How do I know when it’s love?” and the rock group Ratt just told us, “You’re in Love.” Ballads focused on emotional and physical love. We experienced the delightful agony of determining if all the handholding, slow dancing, and gazing into each other’s eyes meant we were in love.
Romantic love is wonderful. I didn’t marry my husband because it was a purely practical decision. I had feelings for him and was attracted to him. We laughed, talked, and shared the same values. We had fun together. I enjoyed kissing him – still do. But that kind of love is inconsistent. It’s important that a deeper love grows and takes root.
Before we married, the minister performing the ceremony told us something important but discouraging, namely, romantic love usually lasts three weeks, three months, or three years, depending on the couple. Then it begins to ebb and flow. This is good, he told us, because then real love can develop.
This year’s Valentine’s Day displayed real love. My husband took time out of his day off to drive over to my dad’s residence to calm and comfort him. It’s zero fun to watch parents age and decline, so there was nothing in it for him. He just wanted to be helpful and remind me that I’m not in this alone – because as an only child, that’s exactly how it feels.
Which makes me realize that America will find its way back to marriage and families if the younger generations are simply willing to embrace sacrificial love. Aside from the Biblical truth that marriage is a covenant made before God, sanctioned by God, and blessed by God, marriage also enables two selfish human beings to become more selfless. “For better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health” aren’t just ceremonial vows – they are substantial promises that are sometimes forgotten when romance wanes.
Generation Z seems to be a love enigma. These youngsters already have a pandemic under their belts, and it may have shaped their romantic sensibilities. Some news sites report that Gen Z is marrying later or less often. The median age at first marriage in the United States is around 30 for men and 28 for women, reflecting a shift in timing. At the same time, a 2025 New York Post article positively proclaims that Gen Z cannot stand the idea of one-night stands and is much more on track with traditional values than millennials.
“All 50 states have fertility rates below 2.1, the bare minimum needed to maintain the population,” U.S. Sen. Mike Lee (R-Utah) recently wrote on X. That’s a terrifying statistic. The U.S. population increased by only 1.8 million between July 2024 and July 2025. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, there were 519,000 more births than deaths during the same period, a higher rate than during the pandemic, but a significant decline from prior decades. This means that some of you need to get serious, get married, and start making some babies.
Those in the “afternoon” of their lives – like me – may feel like the marriage milestone passed them by, but that’s not necessarily true. My grandmother tragically lost her first husband at age 54. A few years later, my “Papa Sam” came along, and they married when she was 58 and he was 67. Papa Sam never had children with his first wife, who died of cancer. Yet when he married my grandmother, he gained two stepsons, two daughters-in-law, and three grandchildren, proving marriage can be a blessing at any age.
As a wife and mother for over two decades, I feel qualified to testify that marriage and mothering is worth the highs, lows, and all the sacrifices. Start your family. Build your life together. Stay together and develop real love.
Editor's Note: The original article has been updated to reflect that the U.S. population grew by 1.8 million, not 1.8 billion. We regret the error.
Kristin Landers is a substitute teacher and freelance writer. Landers’ previous work includes serving as Communications Director for the Alabama Policy Institute and working for Citizens Against a Legalized Lottery (CALL) to defeat legalized gambling in the state of Alabama.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
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