The Elinda of Doom wrote:
I'm more 'in love' now after 22 years of marriage than I was on the day I said 'I do'.
QFT (though me and Mr. Ambrya have only been together for 11 years--still, the principle is the same.)
Allow me to join you on the sap train, Elinda...
The more Mr. Ambrya and I settle into "old married couple" status, the more I realize just what love really is. Especially now that we have a baby on the way, and suddenly the big, flamboyant romantic gestures just seem like so much showing off.
I wrote earlier this week about the construction-paper Valentine's card he made for me, and how it made me cry because I was so touched. Never in our previous 11 years together has a gift or card he's given me moved me to tears.
Love is not leaving the room when your wife is heaving her guts up, but instead getting her a cold rag for her neck and mouthwash afterward.
Love is going out and buying a bunch of plastic hospital basins and stocking them up with crackers, bottled water, and paper towels, then placing these "kits" strategically around the house and in the cars so that one's never too far away should morning sickness strike.
Love is trying to ease your wife's self-consciousness when her once-decorous body suddenly becomes a source of never-ending leaks, noises, and noxious emissions.
Love is being stressed out about the bills, but not depositing the gift check from the in-laws to make it easier to pay them all, because your hysterical wife insists it needs to go toward baby stuff instead.
Love is being stressed out about the bills, but telling your wife not to cancel her gaming subscriptions when she offers to do so (in order to ease the financial situation) because you think she'll need the games for stress relief in the months to come.
Love is not taking it personally when your wife is a lot more irritable over the little things than she used to be.
Love is spending hours anxious and fretting when your husband goes in to work the day after a major unexpected snowstorm (in a city with very few snowplows), because the idea of something happening to him is now more unthinkable and unbearable than it's ever been before.
Love is understanding when sex is too uncomfortable for your wife to continue, and continuing to understand when her gag reflex is too sensitive for her to offer alternative means of satisfaction, and when she refuses to let you touch her breasts (and gets quite hostile when you try) because her nipples are so sensitive that the slightest touch feels like an electric shock.
Love is snuggling in at night and then placing kisses on your wife's belly before you go to sleep, after duly admiring the lump developing there, or snuggling in together in the morning and feeling the baby move.
I could go on, but I think I've already ruminated enough to get my oxytocin high on, but I think the lesson I've been learning lately is that making a life together may not be romantic, but that love really is only about 5% romance, and 95% ookie stuff that you don't discuss in polite company.
Edited, Feb 16th 2007 7:08am by Ambrya