My
husband, Tom, has known me since before I was pregnant. We met in our late teens, working together at
a small roadside café. He was a short
order cook and I a waitress. We hit it
off immediately.
Our
friendship is one of the brightest spots of my youth, with specific moments of
happiness I cherish to this day. We
could talk on the phone for hours at a time and, I admit, there were many
nights I hardly slept during those years. What we talked
about is not important, it’s how I felt: appreciated, respected, and valued; smart
and worthy of love. We went to campus theater
productions and concerts together and we played guitar with his dad in the
basement of his split level. We were the
best of friends, with that sprinkle of chemistry that still gives me butterflies
to this day. This all continued until
his girlfriend said “Enough!” and with good reason.
When
we talk about it now, we are so grateful we were parted from each other. If we had tried to make a go of being a
couple we would have likely self-destructed.
Instead, he went off to college.
A
couple years later he came home for the holidays and happened to run into me at
the mall. I was eight months pregnant,
alone and lonely. I remember he came
over to my house, and sat with me.
Actually sat with me and held me on the couch, cradling me in his
arms while I leaned into him, his hands on my belly. Many years later, when meeting my
son for the first time, he asked me if Tom was his father. I told him no, but that he was the only
person to truly share, even if for a brief time, in my life during that
time. And he was the only person to
truly feel you in my tummy.
Today,
I can’t imagine my life without him, and I need to say thank you.
Thank you to the man who always encouraged me to pursue a
relationship with my son, who shared my hopes and dreams for our
future, who grieves for my loss, and
recognizes it as his own. Thank you to my best friend, who has shared this journey with me, from that day on the couch to celebrating his 7th birthday in Taxco, Mexico
to standing next to me at his graveside. Thank you for holding my hand, wiping my tears, and
guiding me through this process with gentle strength and kindness.
Wow. Beautiful. Reminds me a bit of my birth-mother's husband. He had been her boyfriend in HS then went off to the Navy. While he was gone, she became pregnant with me. She sent him a Dear John letter and broke the news. While he was back visiting home from FL, he decided to call her, to see how she was. Even though she had cheated on him, he loved her. She happened to have just arrived home from the hospital, after giving birth to me. He went over to visit her, hold her, comfort her, wipe her tears. When his Navy term ended, he came home and married her. I am not his child, but he has welcomed me with open arms and has made me feel like he might as well be my birth-father. God bless your husband for his wide open heart and his ability to see past biology.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing, I love hearing your story. The fact that ours seem to mirror each other's warms my heart.
ReplyDeleteMine too. :)
ReplyDelete