Disclaimer: If you know me and my family, then you know that my husband is quite private. Please do not tell him about this post. He claims to read my blog (I know he's lying), but this post is about him and we had an agreement I wouldn't post anything about him, so...I haven't included his name.
I met my husband in Iraq. I was broken. I doubt people could see it from the outside, but I was heartbroken, sad, and confused. I was with this one guy before I left to go to Iraq that I loved, it didn't last. I reconnected with another guy while I was in Iraq and it seemed promising, but I was so drawn to this man that I married, that all sense of logic just flew out of the window. He could see right through me. When he walked in the room my heart smiled. I knew he was my husband. I knew he was the father of my children and I couldn't understand a damn thing he was saying (he's from Jamaica originally).
A week after I got home from Iraq, he asked for my hand in marriage. Two weeks after I was home, I moved from California to Florida to be with him. A year later we were married. My husband was just a reservist when we met. He had no plans of going Active Duty in the Army, but I was always sick (undiagnosed Hashimoto's). His job paid quite well, but he had no medical benefits and my job, at the time, had the worse medical plan known to man, so he did what some men do, he changed his life around in order for me to be healthy and joined the military full-time so I could have medical care. Not many people know that and he would never admit it either.
The years after were good and bad, but the worse came after we lost our first child. I didn't think I could have children. I was told when I was 18 years old that my chances of having children were very small because I only ovulated twice or three times a year (Hashimoto's). We got pregnant on the first try of fertility drugs and lost her at 14 weeks. I remember how he looked at me when we couldn't find the heartbeat. It was like he wanted to protect me and couldn't and then the anger set in for both of us. Miscarriage is hard on a marriage. It took a year for us to get back on track and then we found out that we were pregnant again (without fertility drugs) and we fought like hell. I think we would fight because we both couldn't take another loss. I know it's crazy, but after we had Ms. O, we felt complete. My husband would sing to himself for days and the smile on his face when he looked at her would melt my heart. Our son, Mr. D., almost 3 years later, was just icing on the cake.
Is it a love story? Probably not in the sense that most people see it, but I started to think about us after I saw something on Facebook. It was a status about what type of wife are you and how after 18 years of marriage a woman still dresses up and goes on dates with her husband, which I think is awesome, but the comments underneath the status are what got me to thinking about my marriage and one in particular was to the effect of, 'what you won't do, another woman will, so keep yourself looking good and keep the marriage together'. If my marriage would have been built on this, then he would have left me a long time ago. It got me to thinking about a conversation I had with one of my girlfriends and her telling a friend to choose her husband by picking the one who loves her enough to give her an enema. I laughed until I almost choked, but she's right.
I didn't find love in the perfect setting. I have never been well in our marriage. I have had bouts of great health, but since my husband has known me, I have always had some type of medical issue. Last year, there were days that I had to wait until he got home to take a shower and no I did not comb my hair. He has seen me at my worse and the love in his eyes has never changed. He has held my hand through procedures. He has listened to my fears. When I picked him up a few days ago from the airport with 4 braids in my hair, a sweatshirt, slippers and sweat pants, he simply took my hand and helped me to the other side of the car with the same love in his eyes. He had just took emergency leave to be by my side. He had just been in the field. I knew he was tired, but the first thing out of his mouth was, "how do you feel" and "have you had anything to eat".
I haven't had the pleasure (especially recently) of living a fairytale. My journey hasn't allowed it, but I am thankful that I found someone who loves my soul. Through sickness and in health - the vows mean something to people still. I am so very thankful to my husband for being by my side. He is my soul mate. He is the love of my life. I never thought I would be so lucky to have someone to see me through the good and the bad. We aren't perfect. We still get on each other's nerves, but when it counts, we are each other's rock. I couldn't do it without him. I really couldn't because he pays the bills.
Love in my opinion cannot be defined. It is so many different things to many different people. I had a hope when I got married and it was to have what my grandparents had. I firmly believed that my parents "loved" each other (they are now divorced), but I had the feeling that my grandparents were committed and bonded to one another. They were married until my grandfather passed away and my grandmother has never remarried. They didn't seem like strangers that met once. They seemed like family. I told the marriage counselor (yes, we've been to counseling) that my husband was like family, like a piece of me. It's true, he is my other half. I don't want this disease to take me from him any more than it already has. I am hopeful my coming surgery will give us some normalcy, but for now I am appreciative and in love, fully committed.