Today isn't just Memorial Day at our house. Today is a special day for Squee and I, the seventh anniversary of the day we walked down the aisle and said "I do".
Somedays, it doesn't seem like we've been together this long. Others, I can't remember what it was like 'before' we were together. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, my life began anew when I met Squee. Some say that their wedding day begins a new chapter in their lives, but for us, it feels like a whole new book. And in seven years, I've been able to do quite a bit of research on this particular novel, and trying to boil down all lessons I've learned with Squee into a handful of ideas hasn't been an easy task, but I feel like I learned them chronologically and each helped our relationship grow.
First of all, Squee has always, always believed in me. When we first met, I was starting my first semester of classes at the local community college, and had all kinds of crazy, half-put together plans and stitched up dreams. He thoroughly believed I could do any of them, that I would do any of them, and he has never doubted me. That sort of unyielding faith in me, in my judgement and my abilities, was something completely unfamiliar to me. Never in my life had I experienced something so humbling, and what's more so, is that after seven years he still has that self- same faith in me, and has taught me how to have that same faith in him.
Secondly, my Squee is probably the most caring person I've ever met. He doesn't always get the chance to show it, being the man of the house, but this is the man who made me custom shoes for Christmas. Pink Converse Jack Purcell oxfords with custom design tongue and the word "Woman" on the sides, a gift so sweet it had me close to tears. I know for a fact that no one else on the planet would have thought to make me shoes for Christmas, but my Squee did, because he knows how much they would mean to me. They reminded me that I was his Woman, his something special, and I felt blessed when I wore them. Today, they are my 'special occasion' shoes, just because they came from my sweet and loving Squee.
Squee's parenting capabilities are awesome, something I had always suspected but got to witness firsthand when our oldest was born. With three girls, one would think he'd be chomping at the bit for a boy, or at least hoping for a tomboy. But no, he accepts his daughters as they are, for who they are, albeit they're all very young. Siren is adamant that she is one day going to be a firefighter. Squee is her inspiration, to put it into four year old logic: "daddy was a Marine, Marines are heroes, Firefighters are heroes too, I want to be a firefighter since we already have a Marine." (For the record, she also likes the idea of being a superhero but doesn't want to wear a cape.) He's proud of them, he loves them, and has no compunction with telling them as much as possible. From the first moment he held our Siren, I knew he would far outshine anyone's expectations of him as a daddy, especially his own. I don't know if he realizes he's a great dad, even when other people tell him, but there's a reason that "dada" has been each girls' first word.
There is next to nothing this man won't endure for his kids. I saw that one first hand on my epic meltdown at Epcot (reference to previous blog entry, Secondary PTSD, Strength and 'She'). I fell apart while he held it together for our daughter, because she needed him to be strong. For a few days, he endured crowds, noise, stress, and a veritable melting pot of all of his nightmares rolled into one, so we could take the opportunity we'd been given to take our Siren, who was an only child as of this vacation, to the Disney parks in Florida. While we were with family, the brother and family my Squee doesn't get to see because they live across the country and who were our amazing sponsors for our trip, and Squee's mom, dad and grandma, his stress level was constantly through the roof. He kept himself fairly composed with medication, but he was still operating at a high level of anxiety the whole time we were away from home. I feel like his willingness to undergo that kind of stress just so she had a normal childhood experience just goes to show his selflessness.
Squee is so incredibly, unbelievably strong. He has seen things that not even he could understand, lived through moments that could have been his last, and yet he is expected to push those moments aside and focus instead on the now. It's an almost impossible thing to ask of anyone, and yet he does it anyway. On days when even trying drains him physically and mentally, he tries anyway. It's not within my Squee to simply quit. But he isn't just strong, he inspires me to strength. I'll never forget the day in the kitchen not so long ago while I had a nuclear meltdown. I was caring for a screaming newborn baby Echo, Banshee was hanging off my hip, and Siren had just gone bananas with goldfish crackers at the kitchen table. This had been our pattern for the last twelve hours while Squee busted his behind at work, and now supper was going to be late no matter what I did. I felt the walls closing in, tunnel vision made my head hurt, and I was ready to just cry. Squee scooped Banshee off me and into her playpen. Then he took my face in his hands and said someone thing to me that changed how I see myself. Squeeze told me that I was stronger than I knew, that he saw it from the start and it was one of the reasons he married me. He knew how much I needed to hear that, and each day I try, even on the harder days, to be strong because he sees it even when I can't.
We have always been Squee's first priority. Whether at work or out with friends to relieve some stress, he never fails to check in on me and the girls, just to make sure we're okay. He takes his role of protector and provider seriously, and although I know how hard it's been for him in light of recent events and attacks within the US, he doesn't demand or insist that we stay home. He fights down the fear and dread that PTSD brings along on every outing, regardless of whether or not he is with us or at home. I feel the fear too, when we go out, and the anxiety that makes my skin crawl, but it's no match for the leg-twitching, heart racing, floor pacing torment he goes through. But we take our kids to the park, we go grocery shopping, we make an effort to get out and have fun with our family, because we are his first priority. If we weren't, he wouldn't be seeking help now. Squee told his therapist as much, one of the reasons I think she likes his attitude. He said he wants to be different for his daughters, and he is working his way towards being as active as his boundaries will allow. Somedays, when PTSD gets the best of us, it will mean we're limited to what we can do. Other days, when he is victorious and feeling good, it will mean new adventures for our girls, and for me, and the chance to see him laugh and smile and know he's truly happy, because he always ensures that his family is happy.
I did not know what love meant until I met Squee. I had thought, for a long time, that I understood love as an odd mix of emotion, notions, songs, and even Biblical references to what love should be. And then, I met Squee, and all those ideas and poems and verses and feelings suddenly made sense. This was what love meant. I had never met another that I considered changing my life for, but Squee made me want to change for the better. I've never considered myself to be worthy of someone's love and devotion, but he gave it without any conditions. He is the first person I have ever completely trusted, and he appreciates it because he knows how difficult it is for me. He is the man that has been my partner in creating a family, there every step of the way for our girls and for the pain of a lost pregnancy. See, I had never envisioned myself as a mother, until I met him. I
think it's because I hadn't met my children's father yet, and when Squee
was introduced into my life, so many things fell into place at once. It was as though I realized what moms meant, to be blessed to have kids, and I wanted that with him. He is my rock, my heart, my husband, and for a multitude of traits and reasons I can't even begin to touch, I love him and thank the Good Lord and the stars above that we've been blessed with seven years of marriage, and I can't wait to see what the years before us have in store. I love you, Squee. Happy Anniversary!
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