Sunday, 8 May 2016

A Letter to My Saviour

Holy shit, we've done it. Again. We've survived the first six months with a new child - twice - and on this, our seventh 'unofficial' anniversary (of the day we became an item; now eclipsed by our 'proper' anniversary), I want to write you a love letter. Again.

Let's face it, I've written you a lot of love letters: some public, some not, all very gushy. This one is going to be a bit more real, if you like. By now, everyone knows the story of the two friends that fell in love and finally admitted it to each other. They all know that 'Halo' by Beyonce is our song because you were the one person that got me to let my guard down. They know that I think you look a lot like Shayne Ward and that it's part of the reason I married you. What they probably don't know is how hard we have to work for our marriage sometimes.

Being married is tricky. Being married with a young child is challenging. Being married with two is unspeakably difficult. They say that seven years is when you get the 'itch', and I'd love to sit here and say that neither of us have ever had a wobble but I'd be lying, and those wobbles are never more keenly felt than when there's a small baby around the house and your wife feels like her body belongs to someone else. There have been times that I thought I'd be better off doing things on my own, and there were times that I was certain you'd have been better off without me, but thankfully neither of us gave up.

This being our second time around, we knew that the difficult bit was temporary but, in the midst of our sleep deprived and sex starved fog, that wasn't always easy to see. There were times when I wondered if our marriage was failing and I'm sure you have felt it too on occasions, and there were times when I wondered if there was enough of me to share between three whole people who needed me. Well, as it turns out, there really is. Things have started to balance out and I finally feel a bit like my old self; a bit more like a wife as well as a mother.

Thank you for being so patient with me through the early months - twice. In fact, thank you for being my rock and saviour for the last seven years (and before that, if I'm honest). You took a broken shell and you made it whole and full and you are, without doubt, still the most handsome man I've ever met. Above all else, you are my best friend.

I love you more now than ever, because now I know that, with you on my team, I can take on the world.

To us.

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