Our first Valentine's Day together, we'd been together about 5 months. Neither of us had much money so we didn't do much for gifts. We were living 2 hours apart, and it was really tough, so we decided that just being together was going to be our present. It sounds silly, but that year, A got me the sweetest little thing. He bought a heart-shaped box of chocolates, emptied it out, and filled it with strawberry mentos, knowing they were my favorite. It's a little thing, but when I sit here and think about him unraveling all those packages of mentos... remembering they were my favorite... and putting that together for me... it just makes me all emotional. I still have that empty box. And 7 years later I still have him, and now we have a little girl.
Back in those days things were so different. All we did or wanted to do was listen to music, go to shows, hang out with our friends, and drink. And we were in love but we were also confused and unsure and young. I was 23 when we met, and A was 21. We'd never been through anything together, and we only saw each other on weekends.
It's sort of strange what 7 years can do. A moved out of his house, his state, his comfort zone, and in with me in a brand new place he'd only visited. He'd never lived on his own or with friends. It was an adjustment. I got diagnosed with kidney disease, and we did the best we could through hospital visits and fear. We got married... my OCD went from 0-60 in no time flat... and now we're about to have a baby girl. We're stable. We make about 3 times as much money as we did then. We own cars and have 401Ks and stay in and watch movies. And love is completely different. It was this exciting thing that I was desperate to hold on to because it felt so good! And now... it's so deep I don't feel it in any particular way. It's communication, working together, figuring out our next steps. Raising a baby, making tough choices, and always, always, always being able to come home at the end of the day to a hug that means more than anything in the world. Having arms to retire to that know you. That know all of your flaws and love you despite.. and maybe because of them. It's doing what you know you need to for your partner as hard as it might be for you to muster up the courage to do. It's the fact that hearing his voice instantly makes things OK. It's feeling safe, and having problems and working through them and knowing that neither of you will ever give up. It used to be missing him when I couldn't see him, and being happy around him. Now it's a foundation. It's the thing that holds us both up and helps us to get through things, and to want to try to get through them. To want to make each other happy.. and better.
I will never say my marriage is perfect. It can't be, because we're not perfect. We're flawed, and we have been, and we will continue to be. But sometimes I think that deep down in my very soul, A is a piece that I was built without. That he's everything I need, even if I don't always want it. I guess this whole thing is sappy, but this is the last Valentine's Day we'll be alone. Next year (next WEEK) we'll be a family of three. And before I reflect on life with a new baby, I want to reflect on life with just us. And that's how it's been. And I'd like to post part of a song that fits exactly how I feel most of the time about A. That he's a part of me that I was always supposed to have, and couldn't be happier that I found.
Origin of Love
Last time I saw you
We had just split in two.
You were looking at me.
I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That's the pain,
Cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love.
So we wrapped our arms around each other,
Trying to shove ourselves back together.
We were making love,
Making love.
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