A letter to my husband

My love:

Last night, you helped me search desperately for a pacifier for our crying baby.  We like to joke about the pacifiers in our house growing two legs and walking away because we can never find one when we need one. I crawled on the floor, trying to peer under the armchair.  I was growing frustrated and I’m sure you could sense it.

You came over, without a word from me, and effortlessly lifted the side of the chair so I could get a better look.  Success.  You cradled our daughter in your arms and stuck the pacifier in her mouth.  Instant calm.  You held her on your chest, laid down on the couch, and drifted to sleep with our baby.  No complaints from you.  This is the stuff I know you live for.

I’ve lost track of how many times this scenario has played out over the years.  You are the calm in our storm of life.  You’re level-headed and steady when I’m past my breaking point. Eight years of marriage and that hasn’t changed.

We met at a concert at the campus I attended and we started dating shortly thereafter.  We were 19 and you were my first real relationship. We spent all of our non-school and non-working hours with each other.  Apart from me getting cold feet a few times while dating, our relationship was strong.  10 months after we started dating, we got married.  A “whirlwind romance” some have said.  I like to think the timing was just perfect.  A little over a year after that we welcomed our first child.  And our family has been growing ever since.

You are a hard worker and provider for our family.  You work diligently at both of your day jobs and come home exhausted. But that doesn’t stop you. You roll up your sleeves and jump right in to this beautiful chaos we call home. You choose to be present with us both physically and mentally. You are such an amazing example for our kids of what a dad and husband should be.

You’ve seen me at my emotional high points, and you’ve seen me at my dark, low points.  You’ve walked with me through post partum depression.  You’ve forgiven me for saying and doing things I know I shouldn’t. You’ve reasoned with me when I was unreasonable. You’ve loved me when I didn’t seem lovable.

You’ve sat up with me late at night, whether I was nursing a baby or awake with my own thoughts.  You’ve literally seen my body morph and change during and after pregnancy, and still call me beautiful. You’ve held my hand during six labors, day and night.  You volunteer to get up with the kids at night, and don’t complain about it. You have given me a life far beyond my wildest expectations.

There are days I wonder why you chose me. I’m impatient and selfish and a dozen other things you don’t deserve.  And you love me anyways. Your unconditional love for me is like a fine sand paper, gently wearing away at all my rough edges and flaws. And over time, slowly but surely, your patience and endurance is refining me. I’m growing into the woman you’ve seen all along. Thank you.

To me, you’re the only one I would ever dream of doing life with. You don’t need red carpet, or glitz and glam, or a trophy.  You find your satisfaction and peace in knowing that you make a difference in your kids’ lives; in my life. You aren’t perfect, nor do you pretend to be. You are human.  And I love you just the way you are. Imperfections included.

You’ve dreamed with me,
laughed with me,
and grown up with me.

I can’t wait to see what this new year brings.

I love you morer,
Deanne

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