Five years ago today, my husband, C, proposed.
Never heard the story? Don’t worry; I wrote all about it, here, five years ago.
I wasn’t sure about marrying C. I mean, we’d broken up a lot of times. All of them were difficult. At times we seemed to bring out the worst in one another. He had said he’d never wanted kids, and then all of a sudden, he was there with a ring, and he suddenly did.
It was a risk. A risk I very trepidatiously took.
And I am so glad I did.
By the time he had proposed in September, we had done a lot of work. We were doing pre-marital counseling and I had insisted that he go to counseling on his own. In his therapist’s office, there was a painting with the words “St. Germain” (my last name) at the bottom.
If I believed in signs, he texted me (he doesn’t), this is the clearest one I’ve ever gotten.
I also was in therapy, and had been since the breakup. And so I entered our engagement happily, but also scared, and also knowing…something was different, this time. I had survived the worst thing, and he had realized that he’d lost the best thing. We were working on our relationship and working on ourselves.
And I am happy to say we have barely fought a day since.
I came home today from running errands; C and V didn’t hear me.
But I heard them. Playing, laughing, C reading to her. Their delight in simply being together.
There is no sweeter sound than that of your husband (the one who didn’t want kids, who ended up being the best father you’ve ever seen), making your daughter laugh.
There is nothing in my whole life that compares to that.
I love you. Happy engaged-aversary!