Who writes love letter to their husbands these days?
Certainly not me.
When will I find the time to write one in the first place? Too many young children are keeping me super occupied.
My husband asked me how my day was when we had a brief moment to ourselves after dinner. How can I tell him that my moods were as erratic as Melbourne weather that day? Sunny one moment, cloudy the next. That went on for about a few iterations, I lost count.
That was exactly how I felt. Blissful one minute, wearisome the next.
I don’t think he’ll ever feel what I’m going through. Let’s face it, men’s hormones are pretty flat.
Whenever I see the children laughing or simply having a good time together or when I notice my father happy, my moment turns into joy. The children are cheeky and amazing. But when I focus on the strange things I’m experiencing associated with my pregnancy, I become despondent.
Throughout the day, all I’m thinking of is when he’ll be home. He puts me together. He gives me the support and stability I need specially with this pregnancy. I know when he’s around everything will be fine.
At the end of the day when it’s just the two of us, I can shed a tear or two. He will listen to me like he’s listening to my woes for the first time. That tireless affection, that warm embrace, that listening ear give me the strength to go through another day with optimism and less of selfish thoughts.
I love him dearly.
I thank God for marriage. It is so beautiful. It is making me whole.