Voices: My journey to becoming a wife

SAN FRANCISCO — When our kids were in preschool, we were in a carpool. One day, I got a call from the mom who drove on Tuesdays.

A teacher had gotten engaged, and the talk in the car had been all about weddings. Our youngest was apparently quite excited about the whole thing.

The discussion had confused my friend.

"Is it true you've been married three times? Because that's what we heard in the car today," she asked me with a little trepidation.

I started laughing. "Well, yes, I have. But don't worry — it's all been to the same woman."

The Supreme Court's decision Monday to refuse to hear any cases on same-sex marriage from lower courts probably means same-sex marriage will soon be legal in 30 states.

Been there. Did that. Love it. This year marks Lisa and my 16th anniversary. We've got two kids, a mini-minivan and a mortgage.

Despite all that, I was not a wife for much of that time.

When we told Lisa's family we were getting married back in 1998, her parents were worried it would destroy our careers and ruin our lives.

Thankfully, it did not.

Instead, marrying helped make real and concrete something that was difficult for them to initially grasp.

I knew we'd turned the corner when my mother-in-law told me she was making her famous Jell-O salad for the rehearsal dinner. Being from the Midwest, that was the mark that this, in her mind, was a real wedding.

It was a journey for me, too. In college I don't remember expecting to get married. Then some people I knew started having commitment ceremonies and doing the paperwork to be "domestic partners."

We all started using the word "partner" to refer to our girlfriends and boyfriends. It felt awkward but better than "lover," which just seemed kind of icky.

Yet, even after our first wedding, I wasn't entirely comfortable calling Lisa my wife.

Legally, she wasn't. Our marriage was real in the eyes of our friends and families, but as far as the state was concerned, we were two single women who happened to live in the same house.

In 2004, a colleague told me San Francisco's mayor was allowing gay weddings at City Hall. We hurried over and after frenzied phone calls, our minister arrived in time to marry us.

That felt real, if rushed. My mom and dad got married at City Hall, and we had, too.

Then the courts overturned those weddings. Once again, "wife" wasn't quite the right word.

However, the lay of the land was changing.

Several couples we knew got hitched in Massachusetts, where it was newly legal. It felt weird to hear them talk about their wives, but by state law, that's what they were.

I don't think I totally embraced the word "wife" until our 10th anniversary in 2008. California had made same-sex weddings legal, and we decided to do it all over again.

For us, it was a recommitment ceremony. For the state of California, it was our first legal wedding.

Our neighbor Grace baked the cake. On it she wrote, "Third Time's the Charm!"

In my heart, we'd been married all along, but for the first time, I could wholeheartedly embrace the word "wife." No longer just a wish or a hope, it was what we legally were.

That shift is one I expect many, but not all, in our country will make over time.

For some, it's already made. Our neighbors Phil and Larry got married two weeks ago. I ran into Phil on the street this week.

"I still can't believe it happened!" he said, a little teary. "After 23 years, he's finally my husband."

Weise covers Silicon Valley and computer security out of Paste BN's San Francisco bureau.