Cotton Anniversary and a Baby
Hello, hive! It’s been two years since Mr. S and I said “I do” at our Brooklyn winter wedding—somehow it seems so long ago and yet not, all at the same time. (For those of you that would like to relive the saga of how it all went down, you can find my recaps here.)
Don’t let the sunshine and smiles fool you, it was a brisk 35 degrees on our wedding day with a nice wind chill from the river.
If 2014 was the year of the wedding and 2015 was the year of the house, then 2016 has been the year of
starting growing our family. (Chunk’s edit: Oh I see, you get knocked up and all of a sudden I’m chopped liver.)
“Kid, here are the ground rules: share your food, share your bed, and don’t pee or poop in the house. Oh, and don’t touch my toys. See ya on the other side.”
We recently spent a long weekend in Palm Springs, celebrating both our cotton anniversary and our little Squidlet due in March. The getaway was the perfect mix of hiking (or at least what this city girl thinks is hiking…we walked on a mountain, that’s hiking right?), lazing by the pool, and binge watching Netflix. At 26 weeks pregnant, I enjoyed my weightlessness in the pool so much that I immediately looked into joining our local pool club when we returned home. Turns out our community center’s over-chlorinated indoor pool lacks the same ambiance of being surrounded by sunshine, palm trees, and mountain views. Womp, womp.
Mr. S overlooking Palm Springs from the top of Mount San Jacinto
The most liberated/un-self-conscious I’ve ever felt in a bathing suit. I just sat at that pool with my bump hanging out like, “Bring me all the tacos.”
After spending half of my life with Mr. S, I assumed there would be no grand revelations in our second year of marriage—same old, same old just like the first. But lo and behold, in deciding and trying to add a baby to our family, this year has caught me off guard several times with moments that had me falling in love with him all over again. Like how he kept optimism and humor in the process as I was devolving into a neurotic mess, obsessing over basal body temperatures and cervical mucus (baby-making is not as easy and/or sexy as high school sex ed would lead you to believe). Or when he held me as I cried in the middle of the night after a loss at seven weeks, acknowledging and consoling my grief even though it was so early on. Or that time I caught him Googling “I’m gonna be a dad and I can’t wait,” which prompted him to request that we all, including Chunk, write letters to our unborn baby.
Mr. S has always been my constant, but this year he has supported me in ways I hadn’t needed him before and at times when I myself didn’t know what it was that I was feeling. The year 2016 has given me a whole new appreciation for my husband and the strength of our relationship, and confirmed what an amazing father he
will be already is (Chunk’s edit: Jeezus, woman). I am so very lucky to have him by my side as we enter this new chapter of life.
Happy anniversary, Mr. S. I love you more now than I ever thought was possible.
To the bees and the hive—happy holidays from the Squids and best wishes for a new year filled with love and laughter!