The vows I never said
When we got married, you were quite in favour of the idea of us both writing our own vows. I said no. Not because I don’t have a million things to say (you know me better than that), or because I didn’t want to share these thoughts with you or others, but because I knew I couldn’t tell you this without wailing like a baby all the way through. Our wedding was a sob fest enough as it was! (Still not letting go the fact you hid behind your shades by the way). So here are my vows. Please do not write any in return, I know that’s not your style. But it is mine, and to tell the world (or my few friends who might take an interest). This being one of the many things you have learnt to accept about me.
As you know I had a somewhat unconventional upbringing. This made me yearn one thing. A solid family unit.
My little family had already begun when we met and I was sceptical about letting you in.
You were pushy.
I pretended I didn’t like that, but I did. It was not only very flattering, it was romantic.
I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but I’m a bit of a fan of romance…
I didn’t know how or when to introduce you to my two year old son who was undergoing a diagnosis of epilepsy, autism and adhd.
I told you that it would happen when I felt ready.
But being you, you showed up at my door uninvited when you knew I was with him.
My instinct was to be upset and turn you away but I was curious to see how the two of you would react to one and other.
You brought a pack of cards with you and in no time at all you were helping him line them up.
This was the first time I realised you really wanted something with me. And, that you were a foolish romantic, ready to give your heart to anyone. (As was I).
Your life had always been fairly simple until I was introduced to it.
Oscar had his challenges and tested us immensely. In our third year together we almost turned our backs on each other.
That was the worst time of my whole life.
We needed that small time apart though to realise that even at our most miserable, nothing was as unbearably devastating as not being together.
So we worked it out and moved forward.
Since then you have constantly surprised me, enlightened me, excited me, made me laugh, irritated the fuck out of me (in the kind of way that would be hugely missed if you were gone…), you’ve believed in me, confided in me, comforted me and taken the time to truly understand me.
And of course given me three more beautiful children.
I am hard work.
My family are hard work. (Many of us any way, sorry guys if you are reading this but look at us? Love you!)
You have always understood that our home is open to anyone who needs to stay.
You have always encouraged and accepted my wild side. (One of the many things we have in common.)
You have forgiven me for the most outrageous and impulsive decision making possible. (cough, horse for a week, never even rode it, gave it back cause it was a demon, and never got the money back…cough).
You support me when I publically open my mouth in ways that often makes you uncomfortable.
You never judge me.
You nurture my need to learn, and to understand people.
You stayed strong when I nearly gave up.
You work like a crazy person because you want our children to have the best.
You are the greatest father and friend a person could be.
You are my everything.
I am fucking crying now.
But I am alone thank god.
See why I couldn’t tell you this stuff out loud?
Because our life isn’t average.
We have been tested more in our seven years together than most are in an entire lifetime. Hell we were in the first two.
It’s exhausting and relentless sometimes.
But you are consistent.
You give me that stability I always wanted.
You give our children stability.
Not to mention non–stop laughter and kindness.
I don’t need anything more.
It’s only human to dream bigger, but we have it all right now. I really believe that.
…I don’t get it, but thank you, for picking me.