My wedding anniversary

Please forgive my patently obvious self-congratulations here.

Yesterday was my 23rd wedding anniversary. We were married on October 5, 1985; I was 24, he was 30. With those 23 years of marriage came my three children. We were married for 18 months when our first child, a son, came along, and he was followed 22 months later by his sister, and 28 months after that, another brother. Three was my complete number and I was blessed with healthy pregnancies and healthy children who wouldn’t have been part of my life had I not married my husband.

I was lucky enough to marry not only a man I fell in love with, but a good man. He loves his children with all his heart and soul and would do anything for them. He talks to his mother regularly and would drop anything in a moment if she needed him. When his dad died a few years ago, he and his siblings took turns staying with him all day, every day, so he’d never be alone.

If our children need him – he’s there. It could be 2 in the morning, but if they need their dad, he’s there. Right now, we’re in the middle of fixing up our house (painting and minor renovations) so we can put it up for sale, but when I told him that our oldest was painting his place this weekend, my husband called him to tell him that he’d be by this coming weekend to help. This is so foreign and so different to how I grew up that it took me a while to understand that this is how parents are. He taught me how to temper my anger and frustration at the unfairness of my legacy of abuse. I could not have done this motherhood thing without his calming influence.

So, a day-late toast to my husband. Happy Anniversary.

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Image: MorgueFile.com

Tags: pregnancy blog, wedding anniversary