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Wednesday, December 15, 2021

love letter to my husband


I've been reflecting a lot, and analyzing my own behaviors. Namely, this one. I stopped writing. Mason went home. I went back to work. That is where my downhill began. Part of my light died. I was a hollow version of myself. And you kept loving me.

I never wanted to be a foster parent, but a little baby out there needed us, so we did. And giving him back was the hardest thing I've done in my entire life. But I pretended it wasn't. I even fooled myself. No one should ever pack a child's belongings into a cardboard box for them to move on to their next family. I sent part of my heart with him when he left.

Then when I got sick, among all of the really bad things that were happening, something wonderful happened too. All of the love we had built surrounded us, and we made it. 

I will never forget the night that we got the results of my lumbar puncture. The ones that said something to the effect of: this could be MS, could be a tumor, the clearest and most failproof way to find anything out, isn't super clear.

The next morning, I tearfully told you that if I needed brain surgery, and it came to the worst, I wanted every effort made to keep me alive. Because that is all I've ever wanted. To live. Free and happy. With you.

The scariest thing I've ever seen is the look in your eyes when you would greet me in the hospital. Because I know your face. I know every expression. But fear is one I rarely see. 

I've been trying to pull myself out of this hole ever since. I don't ever want to see that look again. 

You're a better parent than I am. And you push me to be better. Sometimes, I have no idea how to talk to an eight year old boy. When I would just let it be, and let him cool off on his own, you push me to try to talk to him about his feelings and find out what's wrong. Because you love us. You make me a better mom. A better person. 

All of this to say: I love you. Yesterday, today, and forever. I love you and I like you.



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