It was two weeks after BelovedSpouse’s graduation, one week after mine. We have been dating exactly a year. Drove to Door County for our first “official” date. Put things on hold in August while he tried to figure out which Russian woman he wanted to date. Got engaged in November. Almost broke up when I came back from Russia in January. Barely saw each other until May.
I was 21, he was 29. I walked down the isle wearing, against my better judgment, the wedding dress of a woman who has been bitterly divorced for the past 25 years, a home-made veil, and fake pearl necklace and bracelet I made myself. The wedding, which was supposed to have been a small private ceremony, turned out into a last-minute big production, thanks again to my mother-in-law. Our wedding day was not a happy one.
Went to see my father-in-law in South Carolina for our honeymoon, then visited a friend of mine in upstate New York. New Jersey turnpike, 90 degree heat, and no air conditioning in the car. We almost got a divorce.
Got back, BelovedSpouse started working full time, I waited for my work permit. Had a reaffirmation of marriage ceremony in November, my parents came, and bad time was had by all. On what was supposed to be our “real” wedding day, I walked down the isle in a black-and-silver wedding dress. Most of his family members were not there, because “we already had a wedding.” My family looked like they ate lemons for breakfast. Our second wedding day was not a happy one, either.
I got a part-time job, which eventually turned full-time. Got addicted to Asheron’s Call. Moved to a new apartment. Couple of years later we bought our first house. BelovedSpouse got a new job, and it sucked. He got another job, and it was fine until the ownership changed and he got laid off. He was unemployed for a year. We found out we could survive on my income alone, but not very well. Eventually, BelovedSpouse was hired by the company he works for now. In the meantime, things at my work were slowly getting worse. My relationship with my parents was getting better. And through it all, every couple months, the subject of divorce would come up, stick around for a few weeks, then go away, only to resurface later.
One day, BelovedSpouse told me he always though he would have had children by the time he was 35. We were told by an OBGYN in Russia that I would have problems getting pregnant. My OBGYN in the States prescribed a minimal dose of Clomid and told us we may be in for a long haul. I was emergency teaching that semester. Sex was the last thing on my mind. And found out in April that I was pregnant. It was an easy pregnancy, gestational diabetes and occasional crippling headaches notwithstanding. DemonChild was born at the end of January, couple of days past his due date. I could have carried him for another month, I so did not feel ready to be a mother.
My parents helped us to buy a much bigger house half-way between my job and BelovedSpouse’s. We still talked occasionally about getting a divorce. We also talked about having more kids, and how long getting pregnant again might take. We started “practicing” when DemonChild was 11 months old. In February I learned that I was not feeling sick because I had the flu, after all. Squeeker was born in September, exactly on his due date. The boys are 20 months apart.
And now DemonChild is 28 months old, and Squeeker 8 months old. BelovedSpouse and I have been married for 10 years today. We still talk about getting a divorce sometimes. But no matter what the future will bring, it has been worth it. I love you, honey. Happy Anniversary.