Before I start writing, I just want to say, I know, I know, not the time to feel bad for myself.  And that’s not what this post is about.  It’s just about reminiscing and remember how wonderful our time together all these years has been and realizing that it’s changing, but it’s changing in a good way.  We’ll have new exciting things to celebrate and do, and a new little person to do them with.  (And cut me some slack, I’ve got some serious hormonal things going on right now!)

Last night while flipping channels alone, I caught the last hour or so of the Feast of Love on Lifetime.  I should have just turned it off and gone to bed, but it’s just such a great movie (based on a great book we read in book club):

“In a re-imagined Midsummer Night’s Dream, men and women speak of and desire their ideal mates; parents seek out their lost children; adult children try to come to terms with their own parents and, in some cases, find new ones. In vignettes both comic and sexy, the owner of a coffee shop recalls the day his first wife seemed to achieve a moment of simple perfection, while she remembers the women’s softball game during which she was stricken by the beauty of the shortstop. A young couple spends hours at the coffee shop fueling the idea of their fierce love. A professor of philosophy, stopping by for a cup of coffee, makes a valiant attempt to explain what he knows to be the inexplicable workings of the human heart.”

There’s a young, hopelessly in love, couple named Chloe and Oscar.  All they had was each other.  It was beautiful.  And it just made me think back to my life with my husband.  We’ve been together for over 14 years, and are in our early 30’s now.  So we’ve spent about half our lives together.  It’s always just been the two of us.  If we want to do something, we do it.  If we want to go somewhere, we go.  We lounge around on the weekends, we eat french toast for dinner.  We drive hours or days to go to concerts, or festivals, to visit friends and family.  We go to yoga, we take afternoon naps, we have quiet nights alone.  We go out to dinner on a whim, we go for drives to nowhere.  It’s just us.  It’s always been just us.  I’m so excited about having a child, the child that is part of both of us (the final biological link between two people, as close as anyone can be, but not related by blood).  But for an hour or so last night while watching this movie, I mourned a little (and sobbed a bit) for the life we used to have.  And in a way, it’s not just a baby that’s changing that – it’s been changing slowly since we met, as everything evolves.  We’ve definitely toned down our lifestyle as the years have gone by, and added the responsibility of pets, jobs, a mortgage, two car payments and more school.  This baby is just another layer to our relationship.  I can’t wait until she’s here, and recognize that life will never be the same.  It will be different, but it will be even more rich with love.