If we're being completely straightforward, this love story hasn't been easy for us.
It was born of two broken marriages, a long distance-relationship, required a cross country move and five different houses. Doctors told us our baby had died in utero, and two weeks later said "Whoops, she's fine." In the past 8 years we've lost 4 of our kids' grandparents to horrible, prolonged diseases. One of our kids became severely allergic to unknown substances, another required two biopsies, our house flooded, and there was a possum in our garage.
Yeah, I count the possum, because dammmmnnn, possums.
It has not been easy, but it has been beautiful because every moment has been filled with him. His voice on the phone kept me safe even from thousands of miles away. The little girl we dreamed of and wished for was buried in our hearts and then reborn again. I held him close the night his father died and he did the same for me. We've loved our kids through everything kids go through, and most important - he somehow got a live, angry possum into a little red wagon and pulled him over to the neighbors yard far, far away from me.
Every bump in the road is a bittersweet memory because he is in it. I really do believe that we are one heart, one soul, sharing two bodies.
Everyone has a love story, a glorious beginning worthy of shouting from the rooftops, so it is sometimes surprising how often we've heard people say, "Why is this happening to you guys?"
"But you love each other so much, this is so wrong."
"You guys shouldn't have to suffer through this - not you two."
I'm not sure who else they have in mind, but we do appreciate the votes of confidence.
They say his heart is failing.
They say his heart looks like this:
But I live there.
I know his heart from the inside.
It looks like this:
And it will never ever fail me.
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