When we got married, I thought I knew it all.

 

 

I knew you were the one I would grow old with.  

I knew I didn't care where we lived as long as we were together.

I knew you would always take care of me and protect me.

I knew how to push your buttons.

I knew you would push mine.

I knew I didn't care, and that we would get through good days and bad days.

I knew you were messy.  

(Okay, maybe I didn't know quite how messy.)

I knew you were proud and competitive and humble.

I knew you cheated at board games.

I knew you loved me, and I loved you.

 

I knew I loved this quote that we selected for the back of our wedding program.

 

 

 And, I thought I knew why.

 

--

 

 Last year, on September 13, 2011, we celebrated.

 Our third wedding anniversary.

 

And we celebrated the fact that God had blessed us with this little perfect human growing inside my belly

 after several months of hoping and disappointment and praying and wishing and trusting.

 

I have thought of our September 13, 2011 anniversary all day today.  

I have thought of how even though it was still days too early, I decided to take a pregnancy test because I just had a feeling.  

Finally.  The feeling.

And, how I took another one just to make sure.

And how I couldn't wait to tell you, but planned out a surprise for when you got home that afternoon.

And how I wanted to record telling you, but instead through nervousness pushed the stop button when you started reading your anniversary card out loud and pushed the start button when I set the camera down to hug you when you immediately started crying once you got to the end and read 

"...you are going to be a father in nine months..."

And seeing you finally break down after you had been so steadfast and calm during those summer months of uncertainty and 

understanding you wanted to be pregnant as much as I did, but knowing that you had needed to be strong for us.

 

I have thought about how happy we were at that moment, on our third wedding anniversary, 

just finding out we were pregnant and feeling so incredibly in love.

And I know how complete and loved and fulfilled I felt and how magical that moment was.

I thought I knew.

 

--

 

I thought I knew what life would bring us in the next year.

 

I thought I knew what it would be like to become a mother and to see you become a father.  I thought I knew how much I could love our baby.  

I thought I knew what it would be like when they placed Henry in my arms.  

 

I thought I knew it all.

 

 

It is so much more than what I thought I knew.  It is so much more than I can explain. 

 

Sharing parenthood with you is my biggest joy in life.  I look at Henry and cannot believe we created him.  

I know how big my heart feels and can't imagine being happier.

But, through four years of marriage I'm getting better.  

 

I know to expect great things.

--

Happy Anniversary, Andrew.

The best is yet to be.

Sometimes, I get emotional.

(If you asked Andrew, he'd probably fill in the multiple-choice bubble selection a bit differently - always, usually, etc.
Thank goodness this is my blog and not his.)

Sometimes I know it's going to happen, and I can brace myself. 

The first time we heard Henry's heart beat.  Telling our families we were expecting.  Even going back to work was less tearful than it could have been. 

But sometimes, emotions come out of nowhere and sneak up on me.  And that's okay too.  

And while there were many, many, MANY emotions camped in my house this summer, and I need to write about that,
but just haven't figured out how to yet, on Saturday, my emotions got the best of me in a good way.

I was finishing packing for our first trip as a family to Manhattan for football, and I just got so teary out of nowhere.

And while that seems silly to get emotional about Henry coming to Manhattan with us (especially since he stayed at my parents while we went to the game because of the heat), I just couldn't help but think about how this was the start of a family tradition.

I want to take my job as the memory-keeper and upholder of traditions very seriously.  So that one day, Henry and hopefully future siblings reminisce about tailgates and sleepovers at Grandpa and Grandma's and the Wabash and everything else that Andrew and I love sharing about Manhattan and K-State and football with each other and now as a family.

And, I will try to be open-minded and supportive of my children when they are choosing which college they want to go to.
(Keep in mind Henry, we will NOT pay for you to attend school in Lawrence.)

But I hope that one day, I have another one of these.

With a 22- or 23-year-old boy hugging his crying mother in front of the same campus sign where she sat and held him just years before.