The Letter

In a recent bout of decluttering (something that really cannot happen too frequently around here), I discovered two sheets of paper with my trademark sloppy handwriting. One was a letter written to Andrew in the first month of Garrett’s birth. The other, a prayer I wrote late one night this past February. It may seem fairly private for me too share both of these online- and it is… but it is something I am happy to do. Especially if the raw emotion of my passionate scribbles can offer any help to others in similar circumstances.

The letter.

“Dear, darling Andrew, August 2018

I’ve been wanting to write to you for a while…for weeks. The first time I thought about it was one of the times I was alone in the Ronald McDonald house. In between prayers, thoughts of what had happened that day with Garrett, thoughts of the other children, and the delirious constant whir of the stupid breast-pump, I would think of you. and us.

What I was thinking then, at that moment, in bed at the Ronald McDonald House was “this isn’ t the hardest.” This is hard. And emotional. But it’s not the hardest. Life was harder before I had Andrew.

It was sadder, and more forlorn when I was wondering my purpose. Searching for my path. I remember the emptiness and confusion and doubt of my early twenties. That was worse. I know my purpose now. I know my job. This is hard and awful and more than what most of our peers have been through…but it’s not the worst.

I was overcome with similar feelings last night in the shower. I was listening to the “mellow folk” station on Amazon music. Some emotional song came on that, in the days of yore, would have made feel absolutely lonely. Full of loneliness. Overcome with emptiness and uncertainty and questions. I remember so well how that feels.

But I have Andrew now. I have a life partner who is on this adventure with me. I have a handsome, smart, loving, kind, attentive and caring husband. Someone who shares my joys and woes and sorrows. I am not alone.

I love you. I admire you. I am proud of you. I feel loved and supported by you. Everything is easier, everything, because we are a team. Our joined goal is heaven. Our agreed upon weapon is commitment and joy (and communication!)

We can do this Andrew. We are doing it. We are amazing, you and me. Our children are awesome. All three of them. I would choose no other life or situation. (well, almost. If we could have Garrett in a slightly different set of circumstances I wouldn’t object…)

Basically, I just want to say: we’ve got this. You and me baby. We’ve got this. I am so blessed to call you husband. I am so lucky to be able to love you, and adventure with you. I’m grateful for you and aware of my abundant blessings.

So much love,

your wife.”