Seven years and one day ago, you and I went on our first date. It went very well. So well, in fact, that even though we didn't "officially" determine that we were in a relationship that day, we consider it our anniversary, because we've been together, wholly and uncomplicatedly, ever since.
This year, year seven, was apparently the year that we stopped taking photos. I just went through all the photos from the last year and I found photos from three days, in the entire year, that feature both of us. This is due partly to the fact that this was the year that Callum developed an interest in grabbing our camera, so we started storing it out of his reach and out of our own, and partly to the fact that we are busy and our child never holds still and and and. The long and short of it is that there are only three dates where we could actually prove, photographically, that we were together--and the most recent one was 11 months ago. So let's make that a goal for next year--especially with this new baby coming--more pictures, with both of us, taken with a proper camera, please.
The lack of physical evidence of our togetherness means nothing, luckily, when it comes to how together we actually were over the course of this year. This year has been jam-packed, and exhausting, and awesome. We took a toddler to three European countries, and went through eight months of pregnancy, and both worked full time. I got a master's degree. We got away--just the two of us--to Cabo for four days, which was blissful but not nearly long enough. And through it all you have been there, being supportive and hilarious and loving and there. Very there. Very together.
This pregnancy has taken more of a toll on me than the last one did, even though physically it's been quite straightforward. The combination of a two-year-old and a demanding job and graduate school and pregnancy really started to weigh me down, and I've been turning to you more and more to take on a large share of the household and parenting duties, while I basically lump on the couch. I'd been feeling bad about that--feeling like I was acting lazy and selfish--worrying that I was overburdening you and that you would start to feel resentful--and also feeling like it's unfair of me to ask so much of you when I'm still physically capable of doing most of this stuff, and it's just that I don't have the mental energy to force myself to do it. So last night I dumped all those feelings on you, sure that you were going to tell me that yes, I was asking too much, and it really was unfair, and too much for you--and instead you told me that you feel like you don't do enough. It was the perfect response, and just hearing you say it was an immediate weight off my shoulders. After seven years, we still amaze each other sometimes with how well we know each other, how we can anticipate what the other will think and say and do in certain situations--and that response, and how helpful it was to me, was so reassuring, such a good indicator of how well you really do know me, how much you get me and how good you are at meeting my needs. And I'm so grateful for that, and for you.
This next year, and the upcoming transition from one kid to two, will certainly be challenging. But I so appreciate that while I can be nervous about how it will be difficult and exhausting, I don't have to worry about its effect on us. Yes, it will impact our marriage, and yes, we may have to work harder at things we've previously taken for granted. But we will do it together, the way we always do. And it will be fine, and in the end, it will be great. And even during the part where we have to work to adjust, where it might not feel like a change for the better, even if we are snippy with each other sometimes and overtired--underneath it all there's the complete security of knowing that I'm married to you, the right person, the only person I'd want to do this with. Because you are the best. And I swear, even when it might not seem like it--I never forget that.