I didn't have to clean her throw up tonight. He did it for me. He made sure I avoided the smells, and then he offered to have her sleep in our room, that way if she kept waking up to throw up, he'd catch it, so I can get a full nights rest in her bed. Really... that good to me.
But he's more than that.
He's great to me. Kind of more than I can attempt to write into words. And maybe because it's late and I am pregnant that I feel incredibly emotional towards him. In a good way. Or maybe because we just shared our love story to a group of visitors today that has me glowing about how much this man has done for me for so many years and now I'm sitting here wanting to write a sonnet for him. But don't worry, I wont.
Marriage takes work. Relationships take work. And this man has proven over and over again that he'll work at us. He'll work for me. And I don't deserve it, but I love it. We banter often about all the times he had a way out. All the signs he could have caught. But for whatever reason, he stayed. And he worked harder.
And all these past weeks of my lack of showers, his baggy shirts and yoga pants, little energy to clean up after myself, and my inability to stay up late to help him with homework, he still pursues me. He still calls me beautiful. He still apologizes when he responds unlovingly. He still works on us.