My best friend recently got engaged and was asking me if I'd built a wedding website in a bid for advice. I dug ours out, and when I found it, I re-read our story (it's here if you're so inclined). Now that I'm a mom, I am so nostalgic and emotional (more than I have always been, which is really saying something) - I am always in my feels, as the kids would say. While I was reading our story again, it hit me: it's pretty crazy to me to think that I met Beau 18 years ago this year. I mean, it's not crazy to me that I've known Beau that long, it's just the passage of time that is surreal.
Romantic or not, relationships are hard, and maintaining them for decades takes real effort. Those rom-com movies show the good times, and how easy it is to fall in love. I don't think they show what's required to stay in love. They don't show how people change (it's inevitable) and people who are married or in long-term relationships have to learn to navigate the changes within themselves and within their partners. When you commit to your person, you are committing to them and not the version of them that exists at that time. Beau and I have seen ourselves through all the major changes in our lives, individually and together. We've known every version of us, and admittedly not all of those versions have been winners. We've known the best and the worst of the other, and we've had front-row seats to our evolutions. It's honestly impressive to me (though I detest being impressed with myself) how Beau and I have been able to love each other through anything and everything that's been put in our path.
Throw a kid into the mix and it gets even more intense. You become a new version of yourself overnight, one that you are still getting to know, let alone your partner getting to know. Your partner is also evolving alongside you, but it's all happening so fast, no one has time to talk about it or sit down and say "hey, I'm a whole new me." Instead, it just pops up when the changes within you are challenged or bumped against. You now have opinions about furniture arrangements, bedtimes, and volume levels. You might fight to keep who you were before. You'll be taking naps and then later tip-toeing around your house like a ninja while your partner naps. You'll be so tired and frustrated because you're tired, and you'll snap for no other reason than the dog won't stop licking himself. You find yourself just fighting to survive and your partner is looking at you like they're trying to figure you out. I just look back like, "I know, I am too."
You go through all that hard shit, those boot camp newborn weeks. You make it to the other side. You take a deep breath and you feel the sunshine. This is where we are now. We are at baby smiles, consistent night-time routines, and no more fucking colic. I don't think I've taken the time to thank my husband for who he has become during our sudden immersion into parenthood.
Thank you for navigating me when my veneer was at its thinnest. I was entirely unprepared for how hard it would be. I breezed through my pregnancy and thought my transition into motherhood would be just as smooth. It has kicked my ass time and time again. Thank you for being in the ring with me on my side.
Thank you for putting pump parts together, taking them apart, washing them, drying them, putting them back together.... and being stuck in that groundhog day adventure. I know it's not fun and it's never-ending, but it's important and I thank you for doing it.
There was a day when RB was just a few weeks old, he had what I thought would be a never-ending crying spell. It was a lot. I eventually joined him in his emotional breakdown. I couldn't calm myself down and, in turn, couldn't calm him down. I walked into the living room, laid him down, looked at you and said "I can't do this. I need a break. I'm taking a shower." I went into the shower, turned the water on as hot as I could stand it, and I cried. I got out of the shower, and you had him asleep. You never said a word about the state I was in pre-shower. You didn't judge me though I was close to the edge of losing my shit. You took it in stride and let me be. And you got that insane little baby to sleep. God bless you.
Thank you for throwing the ball for Happy. He needs that one-on-one attention and it really tickles him when it's just him and his daddy. You are his favorite person. Also he is insane when he doesn't get to run a bit. Thank you for keeping him the least insane version of him possible.
Thank you for keeping me fed. You cook almost every single morning and night, and you have pretty much since we moved out on our own. You fed me during my pregnancy, and you feed me now when my body is burning more calories than I was prepared for to keep our son fed. You made cheeseburgers for lunch last week. I just inhaled two incredible breakfast tacos, courtesy of you. You make sure I get enough to eat and what you make is damn tasty. Seriously, I basically unhinged my jaw like a wild animal for those breakfast tacos. If you weren't doing that, I would be living off of Lunchables. Honestly, I would. Thank you for making sure I don't go hungry. It doesn't go over my head that your dad always kept us fed. Food was his love language. I think you inherited that gene.
Any time you hear me clink down my empty water bottle, you fill it. Thank you for keeping me hydrated. Also, thank you for the beautiful half-gallon water bottle you got me the other day while you were out. You came home and said "I saw this, and I thought 'my wife would love that' so I got it." You were right - I do love it.
Thank you for your extreme patience with me and with RB. Babies are confusing and he is trying to tell us things but we're still learning his language. You don't let his crying fluster you. I admire that so much. I know I am up, down, left and right sometimes, but you take it with grace. I appreciate it more than you know.
Thank you for your sense of humor. You are always making me laugh. I love your habit of constantly making up songs about whatever is happening in that moment. You're great at riffing. Even when we were not sleeping and our little overlord was constantly providing negative feedback in the form of pterodactyl screeches, you were always looking for something to make us giggle. You have a knack for making me laugh when I feel like I might never laugh again.
Thank you for taking RB to daycare in the mornings so I can have a few minutes of silence before I start my day.
Thank you for always explaining to me what I missed in our shows after I fall asleep on the couch.
Thank you for picking his clothes out in the morning. You make sure he's looking good, and we all know when you're lookin' good, you're feelin' good.
Thanks for always telling me I look good even when I vehemently disagree. Oh, and thanks for pretending you don't smell my wonderful breast-feeding body odor. You are the only creature in this house that can't. Keep that lie up. I can't handle the truth on that one.
Thanks for the knee-slapper dad jokes. You are a natural at those.
Thank you for being the ultimate, master baby burper. I don't know how you do it but I can tell you, you have saved us from a very angry, unburped baby so many times.
Thank you for working hard to better our family.
Thank you for always showing up, even when it's hard. I know that we are in a state of flux, that the last few months have been just as hard on you as they have on me, and that our lives have done a full 180 over the last year. I know we've encountered some unexpected and unmovable obstacles, and life has stolen parts of you with the major losses you've had in the last few years. I know that you carry a heavy weight day in and day out. Thank you for carrying that weight for us.
These things I've thanked you for here are a drop in the bucket of who you are and your contributions to our family. I think you have an unfortunate tendency to question yourself. You are magical. You are an intelligent, capable, tenacious, fiercely protective, loyal, wise, caring, and forgiving man, and it will always be an honor to have a VIP seat to watch all the facets of you flourish. You do not bend, and you do not break. How you do it, I will never know. I wish you could see yourself the way I do, 'cause my view is a breathtaking one.
Thanks for being my husband and my best friend. Like I probably wrote in your yearbook in the 8th grade, "I love you so much, never change."
Love,
G
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