We hadn't yet wept together when I decided to become a special educator because we just felt so right about that decision and so blessed to have those beautiful children be a part of our lives. I didn't know how amazing you would be with the kids I worked with or how much they would love "Mart" when you would come to visit.
We hadn't threshed quinoa together for hours until your eyes puffed up with allergies and you couldn't breathe through your nose but we had to keep going for the sake of your master's thesis.
We hadn't been devastated by our inability to have children for five long years. I had no idea how much your hand in mine would mean to me during those doctor appointments and disappointments. I didn't know how brave you would be when we lost one to miscarriage and one to a failed adoption, how you would handle the questions and well-meaning visitors so that I could grieve.
As I knelt there at that alter holding your hand, I didn't know that those same hands would bless me when things looked so dark. That someday, those same hands would hold our first tiny babies and later our very big baby boys with such security and tenderness. I didn't know that those hands would wash thousands of dishes and sweep the floors hundreds of times and shovel snow at four in the morning in service to our family, so how could I have possibly adequately appreciated them?
When I looked at you then, I would not have know that those very blue eyes would reflect such pride in my meager accomplishments over the years. Those eyes would watch me get on stages despite terrible stage fright, watch me teach Deaf-blind students, watch me deliver five children, watch me try to keep it together, watch me stamp my feet in frustration and always those eyes would give me confidence.
How could I know how much I would love that voice that said "yes" to our life together, the voice that would sing songs beautifully but with all the wrong words, the voice that would harmonize with mine as we shrink-wrapped myriads of boxes each week in our carport? I didn't know how much I would treasure how your voice would sound when you would talk to your future patients or read to our sons or speak to me as I drifted off to sleep.
There was no way for me to understand that I would love you so much and that my love for you and our family would enable me to battle mice and rats and cockroaches, to fix toilets, to be alone a lot during residency, to accept leadership roles I felt inadequate for, to my find my assertive voice, to parent five high-intensity amazing children, to single-handedly assemble and move large pieces of furniture around the house, to relocate several times and find things to love in every new location and to be brave enough to begin to love myself because you love me and I trust your judgement.
I love you more today because I know and love those parts of yourself that you have shared with me. I love you more today because I've been blessed to sit with you on your worst days and, even in those moments, have found nothing wanting. I love you more today because you have chosen to love and accept all of me even at my worst. I love you more today because you have supported every crazy thing I've done and am planning to do as long as it makes me happy even when it makes your life a little harder. I love you more today because the more we work and laugh and play and live, the more I understand that we are meant to be together. You are my helper, my rock, my friend, my biggest fan, my hugger, my toilet-scrubber and my reason to smile each morning. I love you more today and look forward to loving you even more tomorrow.
Happy Anniversary Babe
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