It’s been three years since the Professor and I got married. This morning I woke up and took a walk, mulling this over. In three years we have been through so much. Scary autoimmune disease with a too close for comfort brush with blindness; infertility; loss; IVF; pregnancy filled with anxiety; completing a Ph.D.; struggling with potential unemployment; taking employment at one of the LAST PLACES ON EARTH we had planned to live; and more. We have not had a traditional marriage thus far, and I’m not sure if we ever will. We are not traditional people.
I do have high hopes for the coming year and that it might bring us some positive non-traditional times. I hope that the coming year is free from sickness, from fear, from fighting and from the anguish that comes with loss. This morning I sat on the bed and wished the Professor a happy third anniversary, and asked if he was ready for three more potentially stress filled years. He said he was ready for 30, as long as they were with me. Despite all our challenges and our differences (and there are a lot) we seem to make a pretty good team. I’m incredibly thankful that of all the ladies out there, he choose this OCD, infertile, spread-sheet loving, overly energetic one to be his partner in crime.