Four years ago tomorrow was my sunshine day.
The proposal came somewhat unexpectedly one Friday night we were sitting on the couch watching telly, he passed me his laptop, said he wanted to show me some pictures…oh okay…right here’s you climbing this huge mountain in Nepal, and here’s you swimming underwater with dugongs like Jacques Cousteau. And here’s you in some far away land apparently searching for something. Just quietly, WTF does this have to do with me? Look closer, he said. At the end of the slideshow was a picturegram. I was clearly a few sheets to the wind because I still didn’t get it. In the middle, was a ewe, a picture of the royal wedding and him. Must I spell it out for you…? Click, click, click my brain catches up with my eyeballs and…hold the fucking phone, you’re asking me to MARRY YOU, shit yes!! Yessssssss. He even turned it into one of those photo books. Yes I did Marry the hell out of him. And no, there’s no more of him. Mine for keeps.
Our wedding day arrived about five months later on April 12, 2012. It was full of emotion, elation and an Indian taxi driver (don’t even ask). It was the most incredible day as The Vet kept his promise to the-then-8-y-o and I that he’d be in our lives forevermore, that he’d be my love, my life, my, our all…through good shit and bad.
I expected nine months later to be celebrating a little mini Vet. How wrong I was.
The first month, nothing. That’s okay it’ll take a while for everything to get going again. It had been a bloody long time since my body had thought about anything even closely resembling pregnancy. Two, three and four months later and still nothing. I knew something was up, I could feel it. After five months my smug ‘I’m totally fertile’ look was bitch slapped right off my face. You are infertile, the doctor told us. You have about a 10 % chance of having a baby. Exce-fucking-llent. How did that happen?
And ever since, like a dirty great fucking black cloud, infertility has been hovering over our married life. Pissing it down with fear and loss. It’s sat in the corner of every day, of every week of every month like a cockroach you just can’t stamp on. I really wish it hadn’t. That our life together so far had been free of the emotional turmoil I know you’ve suffered at the hands of my hormones. But like a blown out tyre we don’t know where it’ll end up.
When I was little I had pictures of brides blu-tacked to the back of my wardrobe door (between posters of Madonna and Sebastian Bach – do NOT judge). Partly because I loved fashion but I knew when I grew up I wanted to have a partner who was in my life and my kids’ life, something I’d missed out on – well a solid family life at least. I came from a bitterly divorced home where my parents words were not so much spoken as slung at each other at high speed.
I’ve learnt marriage isn’t just about cohabiting with another human. It’s having that someone who believes in you and all that’s different about you but all that’s bloody shit hot too. It’s listening to them go on about their shit and acting as though you want to hear it. Again. About letting them be right even when you know they’re not. They’re still right (okay, me). Ignoring their stupidity and encouraging their great. It’s not about material shit. That novelty burns off pretty quick leaving nothing but dust in its wake. You need the foundation of someone who never waivers his love, who’s thoughtful, loving, caring and respectfully stays out of the way when you’re ranting and swearing at the top of your lungs because the bench hasn’t been wiped properly, or some stupid fuck pulled out in front of you at the school carpark and nearly took out your wing mirror jesusbloodychristthatwasclose.
I’ve learned so much about my husband these past four years. I’ve watched him become an incredible father. A hero. A saint. I’ve seen him as the most compassionate and empathetic human to all those around him in his daily work, devoting long nights and weekends and physically exhausting himself. I’ve seen him brokenhearted every time we’ve witnessed a loss in our battle to make our family whole. But still every day a warm smile comes over his face and he tells me how much he loves me. Yep, that’ll do me.
I knew the day we met you were a keeper. Despite the fact your hours long dutch courage had you a little more conversational than you would normally be, you made my heart jump rope double-dutch style. You still do. Every. Single. Day.
To the man I’m lucky enough to call my husband I’m just as in love as the day we met. Actually no, even more. Thank you for being in my life you beautiful human, thank you for being By My Side, always. Lov n’ hugs Lady MamaG xox