Dear Lover,
Well, I’m not pregnant. Maybe next month. Now I’m so glad I didn’t say anything about my thoughts or feelings, given I was obviously wrong. We’ll keep trying. It’s so weird how far away that whole experience feels – like a whole different me who never existed.
xo
Dear Lover,
Why is everyone so down on marriage? Since when did it become super cool to loathe the person you’re married to, and to complain about the institution of marriage that you actively agreed to participate in?
You have friends who constantly complain about their wives. I, in fact, have stopped spending time with those wives because they constantly complain about their husbands, and then complain about me when I don’t play along. They also don’t like me anymore, but that may be related to the fact that I don’t see the point in constantly complaining about all the things I don’t have, and instead focus on the beautiful things I am blessed with. It seems to happen more often than not – people make fun of me or complain about me because I’m happy in our marriage, and in my life. Yes. I said it. I am happy in our marriage! Delighted, in fact. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Funny thing – I never thought I would get married. It wasn’t part of my plan. I intended to get a great job, find a good looking and intelligent man who didn’t want children, and have his baby but not have him involved at all. One child and me. That was my plan. And then you came along and turned it all upside-down because I couldn’t (and can’t) live without you.
We are married, and to me that means I’m your #1 fan. I’m the person you can count on to cheer you along when everyone thinks you’re going to fail. I’m the person you can call to celebrate an accomplishment, or worry over a possible failure. I’m the person you can tell your secrets to because you know all of mine. I’m on your team, and that’s what we agreed to when we said, “I do”. I don’t tear you down or point out all your faults. I don’t emphasize all the things you didn’t do, conveniently ignoring all the things you did do. I don’t sit around imagining how wonderful my life would be if only I’d married someone else. Because I didn’t. I married you. Life is full of imperfections – they are what makes it beautiful. If you were perfect, then I would never measure up. I love your missteps, your misunderstandings, your imperfections. I love the moments when I get to see you at your most human state of being, because those moments allow me to be human around you. Your imperfections allow me to embrace mine. That is why I’m my most authentic self around you.
You are not perfect. But that’s lucky because I’m not perfect either. If you were perfect, then you wouldn’t be perfect for me. And you are.
xo
Dear Lover,
We went to Nova Scotia to visit my sister. She is my favourite human (except for you). As you know, my parents’ alcoholism really took off when Elizabeth (my sister) was about 6. I was just barely a teenager, and would often take Elizabeth for long walks in the middle of the night when my parents were screaming at each other. We’d sneak back in our bedroom window once they’d passed out, and would cozy together in one bed until she fell asleep. I still hate it when she cries, and my heart explodes when she is happy. It’s the closest thing I can imagine to being a parent.
Visiting with my family can be exhausting, and has been exhausting in the past. In fact, it can still be exceptionally exhausting. We often end up just going from pub to pub, ending with everyone (except me, who hasn’t touched a drop in over three years) really drunk, often fighting, usually in tears. This leaves you frustrated – really frustrated. This weekend was a bit different. People went to bed at a reasonable hour. There wasn’t endless drinking in pubs – mainly because you and I don’t drink like that, and Elizabeth is moving away from that lifestyle because it makes her nervous. There was no fighting, no yelling, no tears. Insane amounts of money weren’t handed over to cover obscene bar bills. People woke up feeling rested and refreshed. What a difference alcohol, or lack thereof, can make! I was so happy with this visit, and really hoped you felt the same (although Elizabeth’s 4 month old puppy might have factored into your joy). You seemed to be enjoying yourself, but you’re often good at being “on show” when you need to be.
We flew home late Sunday night and sat on the couch together enjoying our home. You started:
You – “Lover, I want to tell you something, but you need to try not to weep” (I cry all the time when things are too beautiful or make me too happy).
Me – “Okay, Lover. I’ll try.”
You – “Even though your family can be challenging at times, they’re really nice and special people. Thank you for making me a part of your family.”
Me – “Thanks, Lover. That means the world to me.”
You – “Lover, are you crying? I told you not to cry.”
Me – (crying) “I just love you too much.”
We really are the luckiest.
xo
Dear Lover,
We’re going to Nova Scotia on Friday to visit my sister for the weekend. I am SO excited. As you know, my sister is my very best friend and my favourite human (aside from you). We are going to visit with her, her boyfriend, my dad, and one of my friends and her new baby.
I have a secret for you – I think I’m pregnant again. I keep wondering if I’m imagining symptoms, but I can’t be sure. I’ll wait two weeks and see, and then I’ll tell you.
I love you to bits.
xo
PS. You didn’t wear your helmet when you rode your bike yesterday. Please protect that handsome noggin of yours.
PPS. I won an additional two months of free yoga. The world has a funny way of presenting opportunities when they’re most needed.
Dear Lover,
May finally came. That means Spring might be here soon – if it ever stops raining…
You came to yoga with me on Saturday to celebrate my 30th day of yoga. Although you were worried because we were doing an hour class (you had confused me saying “hatha yoga” for “half a yoga” and thought I had found a 30 minute class for us to enjoy… alas, that was not the case). You were so proud of yourself at the end of the hour because you had managed to do most things (although your version of child’s pose was quite challenging…). When the class all settled into shavasana I felt your finger reach for mine. We lay there on our mats, eyes closed, barely touching but still so connected, and in that moment I was so grateful for all that you are.
Thank you for being such a sweet and supportive man. Thank you for never telling me a goal is stupid, or impossible, or silly. Thank you for encouraging me on any path I choose, and for always reminding me that we’re in this life together.
xo
PS. It’s time to start trying for another miracle. We talked about it over the weekend and agreed that neither of us want to wait. I’m in a weird in between place mentally and emotionally, but I keep reminding myself how much fun we had last time and the calm that I felt once we knew we were growing our family. I feel like that version of me was a completely different person, but she’s also not far away. I have faith that it will all work out the way it is supposed to.
Dear Lover 