Today is my fourth wedding anniversary with my wife. We have been together nine years.
That sounds so long to me, and it feels so short. This last year in our life and marriage have been hard. No sleep, four kids, a new job, a new house. Stress and demands from every angle. A sick, sick baby that we can’t stop worrying about.
Sometimes, we were not that kind to each other. Sometimes, we used each other as a receptacle for all of the BS we could not hold inside anymore. Sometimes, we fell asleep, exhausted, without a kiss or even a goodnight. Sometimes, we yelled. I think sometimes that I will look back and this will be one of the hard years of our marriage.
Last night, at 1:48 am, I was trying to fall asleep. I could not, because I was honestly just waiting for the part of the night when Bumby shrieks for me and I go sleep on his floor. And my wife was snoring, just a little, and I was looking at her, and I thought:
This would be hard no matter what. At least we are in it together. At least there is someone to yell at who loves me anyway, and someone I can be a sounding board for when it’s all too much, someone I still love desperately, nine years later. At least we have each other.
And that, I think, is what the hard years of marriage are all about.