Two years ago today, H and I tied the knot. We had a lovely day. Just like today, the sun shone and so although it wasn't very warm, we were able to be outside and enjoy the grounds of the place we got married. Last year a British glamour model chose to get married at the same place. Her wedding looked a little different from ours, shall we say. More sequins, more pink, more eyelashes. I have to say, I preferred ours.
We are very lucky that the last two years have brought us closer together. We have learned to listen better (particularly me), articulate what we feel more clearly (particularly him), we have figured out how to support each other in many subtle ways. We've got a lot more we need to learn how to do for each other. His job still sucks, which makes him sometimes cross and sometimes depressed. I haven 't figured out how best to help him with that, and he hasn't figured out how best to help himself. He still has male insecurity around his sexual performance, and neither of us have figured out how best to deal with that.
We are great at making each other laugh. We buy each other wonderful presents. He tolerates my addiction to bad television and I tolerate his addiction to watching sport. He goes out to buy me the paper every Sunday morning so that I don't have to get out of my pyjamas before noon, and I make him muffins on Saturdays and freeze them in invidual packages so that he has some to take to work. He makes dinner most nights and does almost all of the food shopping. I buy the coffee because I enjoy selecting the funky beans even though I can't drink it any more. He tolerates my messiness and only sometimes gets annoyed by it. I make fun of how much he looks like a criminal when he hasn't shaved for a few days and he doesn't make fun of how hairy my legs get in between waxings. He has come with me to almost every doctor's appointment, even when it's just a blood test. He has stayed almost unremittingly optimistic about our chances. He has bought me ice-cream and magazines in the dark times, and flowers in the good times. He has cried with me and given me all the hugs I need, along with the injections which stress him out more than they hurt me.
What is certain is that we are both delighted to be doing this with each other. Not delighted to have gone through infertility, but delighted to know that we are going through infertility with the right person. We now have the opportunity to learn more together, to work more together, to experience the next 12 months together. That's all good. I hope that 12 months from now our lives will look radically different, in the way that we have been dreaming of. I hope that very hard. I want to have a baby with his blue eyes, and his sportiness. I want him to have the son he dreams of, although I know he'll love a daughter just as much. I'm keen the baby has my eyebrows, though. I wouldn't want to inflict his eyebrows on anyone.
Here's hoping that our third year of marriage is the best yet.