Five years ago, I married a man.
We had moved in together after only dating 4 months (in all fairness, my roommate was moving to GUAM with her fiance, so I kinda needed a place to live). He popped the question on a beach in Mexico (Lovers Beach!) after we’d been together 9 months. We were married December 10, 2011, about 18 months after meeting. Fast, sure. Looking back, I’m sure many bets were placed on how short the marriage would last. I was 26 and he was 31 and I had never been more sure of anything in my entire life.
In planning our wedding ceremony, we decided against the traditional “unity” ceremonies (sand, candle, etc). They just weren’t us. Our officiant told us about the wine box ceremony. The gist is that you write letters to each other on your wedding day and during the wedding, you seal them into a box with a bottle of wine. On your 5th anniversary, you open the box, read the letters, and drink the wine. Good times had by all.
So the morning of our wedding, we wrote each other letters and during the ceremony, we nailed the box shut. Last Saturday was our anniversary. I was still recovering from the egg retrieval, so no romantic evening out for us. But we opened that damn wine box and read the letters.
Y’all. I cried. No one would ever accuse this man of being a cheesy romantic. But his letter was so sweet that I couldn’t help it. We’ve written new letters to be opened on our 10th anniversary and he’s building a new box to put them in. But in the past few days, I find myself returning to the first box and re-reading his letter to me. His closing remarks are what get me every time.
“I love you. I always will. This was meant to be.”
Reading that, I find so much peace right now. If there is one good thing to come out of this shit show that is infertility and IVF, it’s that there is no one in the entire world that is better suited for me than this man. He is my person. So. I have that going for me.
I love you, husband. I always will. This was meant to be.