Dear Husband,
Three years ago today, you woke me up with a text message at 5 AM: "Good morning, baby, are you awake?" I was--I had been laying in the semi-darkness of a hotel room, listening to the even breathing of Godmother Doctor in the bed next to me for some time. She, like me, has never been a morning person--when we shared a room in college, I often woke her up from across the room to avoid getting a pillow hurled at my head. But three years ago today, she woke up with a smile on her face and no argument about the early hour.
My parents were in the room that adjoined to the one she and I were sharing. My Godmother was next door to them, and you and your family, plus Godfather Engineer and Godmother Teacher, were a few hallways down. I woke my parents up--my Dad was already awake and waiting to see if I actually got up on time--and Godmother Doctor and I left our hotel room together to go find coffee for everyone.
The morning was beautiful--it had rained the night before, but the day was dawning clear and bright. The hotel grounds were lovely--Disney has a way of making everything perfect, and the resort hotel we were staying in did not disappoint. The theme of our resort was old Southern elegance, and everywhere you looked were grand oak trees and hydrangeas and magnolias. Every now and then a bunny would run across our path as we made our way to the main building of the resort where the big plantation dining hall was located.
Godmother Doctor and I found you there--you were finishing up a breakfast and reading the paper. I did not think it was bad luck that I saw you. Nothing could have brought me bad luck that morning.
You walked us back to our rooms, then kissed me on the forehead--I wouldn't see you for several hours. I wanted you to stay--I hadn't liked being away from you the night before, but it was Disney policy. We delivered the coffee to the waiting family members, and the preparations began: hair was curled, make-up was applied, jewelry was donned. The time seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, I was in a limo with Godmother Doctor and your sister, who was encouraging me to eat part of a bagel.
"She won't eat it," Godmother Doctor told her.
"Too nervous to eat?" Your sister asked sympathetically.
"She never eats in the morning," Godmother Doctor answered, surprised. "She's not nervous."
And I wasn't nervous. I wasn't nervous when the limo arrived at our destination--your sister hurried inside to join you and your family but Godmother Doctor stayed with me in the comfortable little room that was just off the chapel. We were the last to arrive, and while we waited the final few minutes for the planner to get everyone settled inside, we joked around and took pictures. I wasn't nervous when she left to join everyone in the chapel, leaving me alone for the first time in several days. I wasn't nervous when the planner came to get me, or as I took my place next to my Dad behind the double doors that would lead us into the chapel. A bell tolled 12 times, the doors opened, and music started: "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes", from Cinderella. I was not nervous as I walked up the aisle--I took in the beautiful chapel that I had previously only seen in photos and the Samantha Brown "Great Hotels" episode I had watched obsessively in the past weeks. What struck me was the light--there were so many windows and the sunshine streamed in. I was not nervous as I winked at my mother, who started to cry, or as I saw the picture perfect window that framed Cinderella's castle. And after my father announced that it was he and my mother who gave me over to you that day, and the ceremony started, my only thought was of you--the pressure of your hand in mine, the smile on your lips, and the way your eyes never strayed from my face.
It is with love and joy that your families are with you on this happy occasion, as a new branch of the family tree is begun. From this day forward, you will stand together, hand in hand.
Three years ago today we started the new branch, and a month from today, our branch expands--it is the official due date of our son. Whether or not he will come on that day is up to him, but the special quality of that date is not lost on me.
The past three years have not always been easy. But--and I am not exaggerating this at all on the sentimental occasion of our wedding anniversary--the challenges we have faced have not been internal. We have never gone to bed angry or raised our voices to each other. We have never stormed out on each other or intentionally caused pain. We have weathered life, and it's ups and downs, just as our wedding vows described: together, hand in hand. We are lucky, lucky people--we have something, I am sure, that most people search for all of their lives and rarely find.
A month from today, we add to our family. I will admit--I am more nervous about the pending arrival of our son than I was walking down the aisle. Don't get me wrong--it's not because I have any doubts about our abilities. I just think getting this little dude out of my ever-expanding belly isn't going to be as easy as getting dressed up in a princess gown and having fabulous photographs taken in The Magic Kingdom.
Yes, I know it won't be easy--parenting isn't. I may be nervous about a lot of things when it comes to the newest addition, but you--we-- are not one of them. They say fairy tales don't come true. That you're not supposed to wait for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet, and that in this day and age, there are no "happily ever afters". Well, we're proving them all wrong--together, hand in hand.
I love you.
Your Wife
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