eight years. eight, whole years.

in four days, i will have been married to my husband for eight whole years. 

i remember standing there, in front of those preachers….waiting to get started with the wedding.  i remember feeling his hand in mine, his thin fingers grasping my own.

there was something magical about knowing he was next to me.  that he would always be next to me.

i knew that i was comfortable with him. 

i knew that i was safe. safe from everything.  

i knew that he would love me through it all. 

i knew we had been counseled on most things you can think of.  (all things, in reality.  ALL THINGS). 

i remember feeling so calm.  in front of all those people.  so calm that i tilted my head to the right and placed it on his shoulder.  and let out a big sigh. 

because all the preparation that had gone into that special day (and there was a ton from my mom’s best friends)….it was all done.  it was all happening. 

all was right with the world.

while i had ideas about what i wanted (hydrangeas everywhere), i knew that the day didn’t matter.  i knew that it was about the forever.  

about the tomorrow.  

and the next day.  

and the day that we would inevitably receive bad news.  

the day we would argue.  

the day someone would slam the door.  (but no one leaves.  we have a rule.  you can’t leave.  you have to stay in the house and just get over it.  leaving is scary.  so there’s none of that.)

i had no idea what was in store for us.

i didn’t know that years later, we would face real life.  a new baby in the NICU.. horrible, severe post partum (twice).  colic fest 2011.  anxiety, worry.   fear.  crap I never wanted to deal with. 

but you know what?

i would do it all again in a heartbeat. 

is it tough sometimes?  hell yes.  

do i get mad at him?  duh. 

does he roll his eyes at me?  um, have you met me?

but at the end of the day, he is all mine.  and for that, i’m so thankful.  isn’t that romantic?  i think so.  i think it’s so great to know that i’m the only one who really gets to know him.  no one else.  not even andy fisher.  (who i swear he loves as much as me.)

i don’t pretend to have done anything to deserve him.  i don’t know how i got him. he’s not perfect.  and neither am i.  but so often, i feel that we are perfect for each other.  what he lacks, i have.  all my missing pieces…he fills them quite nicely.

if you’re in a relationship and you’re questioning whether he’s the one, let me say this. 

i never questioned it.

i never doubted it.  i knew.  without any hesitation.  when he asked my dad for his permission to ask me to marry him, he said, “i’m ready to put her first”. 

if he’s not willing to do that….find someone who is.  

life is hard.  it always will be.  and if you aren’t ready to put him first…and he’s not ready to put you first, the road will be more difficult than it should be.

shit is gonna happen.

your children will be diagnosed with disorders you’ve never even heard of.  friends will walk away.  life won’t make sense.

trust me when i say you need someone there to help you attempt to pick up the pieces…someone who will help make sense of the nonsense.

before we got married, we read through several books on marriage.  i remember talking one night and him saying that we always needed to imagine life as a triangle.  that i was one one side, he was on the other.  and God was at the top.  as long as we were both moving towards God, we would also be moving toward each other.  isn’t that great?  i always think of that when i want to cuss him for not putting the newspaper in the recycle bin. 

clint, if you’re reading this…thank you. 

thank you for loving me.  for still thinking i'm the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.  for making me feel important.  for seeing me for who I really am.  and for loving that person.  that silly, flawed girl who came to you probably more broken than you had wished.   

i love you back.  with all that I have.  and all that I am.

happy eight years. 

here’s to eight hundred more.