Today.

Around 4:45 or so this morning I awoke to pans clanging together.  He was cooking eggs, in preparation for the gym. 

He eats a lot of eggs; he doesn't love eggs, but they are practical.  Eggs are cheap, full of protein and easy to prepare. 

My thoughts, initially encompassed with frustration for having awoken, quickly shifted to respect. 

I respect the man I choose 12 years ago and his admirable ability to follow through on things like budgets, diets and workout schedules.

He has quietly stayed close in our life backdrop, giving me opportunities to pursue my dreams and proudly standing next to me as I experience the successes I have needed to feel validated. He is okay without validation; he lets me revel in it while he smiles from the stands.  I wish I could be as strong as he is. 

He is humbly compassionate, never boasting about his acts of service and puts up with my propensity for bossiness and control.  He does things like, make me nachos at 10:30 at night...just because I asked, and because he loves me. 

He is fiercely protective, and glows with pride when his Abby is near.  This past Father's Day, after Blair put on his new Broncos jersey, I watched Abby walk into her room, close the door and return a few minutes later wearing her matching jersey.  She is proud to be his daughter, as I am, his wife.  

I'll never forget the day I sat at his side as we cried together for the pain our unborn son was going to endure in his life.  I watched him pull himself together and never look back.  I'm often credited for being Deak's mother, but I could not do this without this man.  He is the glue.  He is the bather, the diaper changer and the person who patiently sits next to and feeds Deak at restaurants so I can have a break.  He feels every stare, every unkind word and every eye glanced downward in pity deeply; he is just not as prone to the emotional facebook rants as I am.  He loves that boy with all of his soul.

So, today, we will probably grill some hamburgers and watch baseball.  Nothing special.  The butterflies and passion are contained to a comfortable level and are allowed to freely burn on occasion when the bills are paid and the kids aren't around.  We've flown high, and dipped pretty low...yet, we are still here.  

Still working.  

Still loving.

I am grateful for a man who has let me become who I've needed to be, and has given me the two most amazing miracles.

Twelve years later, life is good.

Our love story...

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Happy 12 years babe.