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Ten Years Later

Today,  Pierre and I are celebrating our 10th Anniversary.

What does ten years of marriage look like? Well, it’s 120 months, 520 weeks, 3,652 days, 87,658 hours, 5,259,000 minutes and 315,569,260 seconds. Those are the numbers.

But ten years means more than that, doesn’t it? I remember wondering, on the day we were married, where Pierre and I would be in ten years.  

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Saying our vows.

For us, ten years is one marriage and two weddings. It is two countries, two states and four cities. It was a 4,680 move from Montreal to San Diego, seven hours up to Santa Clara, and 2,908 miles back to the East Coast. It was six months of separation and four trips to San Diego for too-short visits. It is six jobs and three graduate degrees. It was three apartments, one townhome and now, a house. It is seven-and-a-half years in Pennsylvania. It is finding a place to make our home together and help it grow.

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Our wedding day.

Ten years is 80 weeks of pregnancy, 18 hours of labor (Ben!) and two c-sections with Pierre holding my hand. It is hearing the doctor exclaim, “It’s a Boy!” (Twice). It is the sheer joy of seeing my husband hold his sons for the first time. It was six months of losing myself to postpartum anxiety; six months where Pierre never gave up on me, never lost sight of who I was or what we had together.

Ten years is Benjamin and Nicholas. 

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Ten years is countless sleepless nights, seemingly unending diapers, and hours spent kneeling beside a potty, clapping and singing. It is kisses on skinned knees and wiping away salty tears. It is four trips to the ER, nine staples (Ben), six stitches (Nicholas), three knocked-out teeth (Ben) and one overnight stay (Nicholas at two-and-a-half weeks with pneumonia).  It is smiling every night watching Pierre read the boys a bedtime story. It is struggling to teach our sons a second language, and seeing them off on those first days of school. It is homework and time-outs and snuggles before bedtime. It is the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus and monsters under the bed. It is watching Cars more times that I can count.

Ten years is the heartbreak of losing Pierre’s mom to cancer.  It is the joy of seeing my sister get married. It is the comfort of having family who love us. It is the happiness of being surrounded by good friends.

Ten years is two dogs and a handful of sea monkeys. It is building a playhouse in our backyard, weekends spent painting walls and sanding floors, and six months of  basement renovations. It is quiet nights sharing a drink on the deck after the boys are in bed. It is leaky bathtubs, overflowing toilets and a faulty heat-pump. It is family vacations and camping trips, hours spent on the beach, and two trips a year up the I-81 to Montreal. It is buying a mini-van, even though we swore we never would.

Ten years is date nights and leaving the boys with Grandma and Grandpa every Christmas so that we can steal away for a night or two. It was the joy of being newlyweds and the comfort of falling asleep each night beside the person who knows you best.  It is laughter and tears, smiles and yes, fights. It is trying never to go to bed angry. Trying. It is learning to say I’m sorry. It is being on each other’s side, no matter what. It is finding a pair of loving arms when life gets crazy, a sanctuary from all the stuff that needs doing.

This morning, Pierre gave me a video he made: a gorgeous compilation of photos from our life together set to the theme song from Forrest Gump (the music I walked down the aisle to). He called it his “mix-tape” for me. I wept, not because I wondered where the time had gone (though there was a little of that), but because it was so beautiful to see where we had been together, what we’d done and how far we’d come. Where he found the time (and half the pictures!) I have no idea, but I do know that I have never felt more loved. And I have never been more excited about where we still have left to go.

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In the end, for me, ten years of marriage comes down to one man. Ten years is Pierre. It is being married to my best friend. It is being loved by a man who always makes me feel beautiful and lovable, even when I am not, even when I don’t deserve it. It is being with the one man who loves me, and our sons, patiently, kindly and completely; the man who is the cornerstone of our family, and my own safe place.

I love you, Pierre. Happy Anniversary.

xo Naomi

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