10 Years

Today, Ryan and I have been married for 10 years. TEN!

It feels like such a huge accomplishment, and yet, such a short time in the grand scheme of things. Ten years ago, we were babies stepping out on this journey we knew nothing about—totally, and completely in love, but also oblivious to all of the facets of marriage.

I think it's appropriate that the traditional gift for a 10th anniversary is tin or aluminum—its qualities synonymous with the flexibility and durability a successful marriage takes.

Today and every day, Ryan is still the love of my life, and I am so happy I chose him (and he chose me) to go on this crazy ride. These first ten years have been wonderful, they've been hard, they've been life-changing and life-shaping—they've been so many things that I couldn't possibly post all of them here.

And yet, I felt compelled to capture this day, to remember it and all the days that have come before.

10 years

2 Masters degrees

9 vacations

2 kids

6 job changes

2 addresses

Dozens of "firsts"

Countless sleepless nights

Not enough "days of nothing,"

but always enough love.

I want to lay ten years worth of moments out before us and look back with our rose-colored glasses off, knowing that the wise choices and the silly mistakes have all led us to where we are now—our perfectly imperfect life together. There is no where else I'd rather be.

Lenten Challenge, Day 16: Earthly

Today is my 9th wedding anniversary. Nine years. That's almost a whole decade!

I look back now and can't believe how young we were when we got married. Only 22, but so in love. So excited to start the rest of our lives...together.

The same is true today. Still so in love, still excited for what our future holds...we're just a little further down the road, a little busier, a little wiser, with a lot more responsibility. For all of those nine years, this magnet has been on our fridge:

We got it as a wedding gift, and at the time, I found it pretty cheesy. Oh, who am I kidding...it's still cheesy. But under all that cheese is a nice message that reminds us that love is not earthly.

And I don't want it to be. I want our love to be grounded in a shared faith, not in things of this world. I want our love to be bigger than us, because on the days when things are hard, that's what gets you through.

Thanks for putting up with my earthly flaws, hun. I'm glad our love is bigger than the one or two I've got (wink, wink). Happy anniversary. I love you so much.

Borrowed Time

Occasionally Ryan and I joke that he's been living on borrowed time since his wave runner accident.  With only a ten percent chance to live, multiple surgeries and more than six weeks in the hospital, even the doctors called him a miracle man.

Us...about two months before the accident.

Today marks ten years since that accident.  Ten years of borrowed time.  The scars have long healed, children have been born, old friends have stuck by us and new friends have been made, leaving that day in what seems like another life.  And in the chaos of our every day, that day really is a distant memory.

But today, when I stop and look around at this life we've created, and a decade of change, I can't help but respect the significance of that day.  There are days in our lives that define us.  Days that change the course of our personal history.  August 11, 2002 is the day I almost lost everything I have now.

There are moments from that day and the following weeks that will never leave me.  Having to say goodbye when the doctors said he wouldn't make it.  Praying...HARD.  Feeling the undeniable presence of God.  Never really believing he'd die, and being angered at his doctor's surprised, "He's alive!" reaction after his first surgery.  Him unconscious, squeezing my hand when I visited him in the ICU.  Knowing without a doubt that he really was "the one" for me.

We've always thought Ryan lived because he had more to do on this Earth.  There was some purpose he hadn't yet fulfilled.  Hindsight being what it is, I look at our two perfect boys and this beautiful life we've created together...ups, downs and all...and I'm confident it was all a big part of that purpose.

Every year since his accident, on August 11th, we've celebrated what we call "So Happy to be Alive" Day.  Instead of dwelling on what could have happened and all we could have lost, we celebrate all that we still have and what's yet to come.

These first ten years of borrowed time have been pretty good to us.  I can't wait to see what else is in our future.

Summer's End

Remember that year we spent the summer wrapped up in our family?  The summer with a newborn and a 3-year-old, when time didn't matter and the days all melted into one.  The summer full of magically ordinary days.

We watched An American Tail on the big screen and got ice cream from the truck when we heard its familiar tune.  We took family naps some days and skipped naps on the others.

We baked chocolate chip cookies and licked the beaters.

We snuggled in our jammies, and watched cartoons...because every day was Saturday.  We went for boat rides at the lake and jumped into the deep end of the pool.

We introduced our boys to the vastness of the ocean and built sand castles on the beach.

We did little things like bowling and reading and trips to QT, and big things, like watching our little one roll over for the first time.  We took turns making the baby laugh.

It was the summer that went by too quickly.  The summer we did everything together.

8 years

Eight years ago today, I stood at the altar in an ivory princess gown exchanging vows with the man God intended just for me—I don’t think I fully realized at the time just how blessed I was.

He lets me be me, even while shaking his head at my silly antics.  He puts up with my shit, encourages me, forgives my mistakes, makes me laugh, gives me grace, deals with my double standards and makes me fall for him over and over again. 

He’s the husband I’d always hoped for—the guy who doesn’t mind my feminist side, and doesn’t see male and female “roles,” but looks at me as a partner in everything we do.

He’s a great dad, and makes me strive to be a better mom.   

And even on the days he’s pushed my last button and I think I might lose my shit on him, I still love him more than I ever thought I could love a man. 

Happy anniversary, hun.  I love our life.

Big Brother Gavin

Yesterday, Gavin wore his "Big Brother Gavin" shirt—the one I ordered for him on Etsy to announce our pregnancy months ago.  I found myself completely overwhelmed at the sight of him, and wishing I could bottle up these last three months before Baby Doc makes his entrance.  

I had this same feeling before Gavin came.  This intense need to capture every moment of time I could when "us" meant just Ryan and me.  It was incredibly sad to think about that time dwindling, and that it would never again be the same "us."  

But then Gavin was born, and he was this piece of "us" we'd been missing and didn't even know it.  He made me fall in love with Ryan all over again.  The way I felt watching Ryan be a father to this new little person I loved more than I knew I could stunned me.

It still surprises me that when Ryan and I go out for a date night, or spend time away from Gavin, at least half of our conversation is spent consumed by him—silly things he's said, goofy things he's done, or how much his orneriness can equally frustrate us and make us laugh.

So now, I can’t help but mourn these last few months of what our “us” has become.  Everything is about to change again.  My baby won’t be my baby anymore.  He’ll be the big brother, my older child, my first son.  

But because I’ve done this before, I know about this piece of our family puzzle we’ve been missing.  I know that even though I’m sad now, when Baby Doc gets here, he’ll fill up a hole inside us that we didn’t even know existed.  And I can’t wait for that.