09 January 2013
worst second honeymoon ever.
One of the unexpected silver linings of this experience has been the amount of time my husband and I have been able (forced?) to spend one-on-one, not doing much except talking. The boys have been with family or at school, and there have been many stages of Imogen's treatment where there's not much we can do for her except keep her company. So we spend a lot of time together, stroking her forehead and feet, grabbing a snack in the cafeteria, or just sitting on the sofa near her bed--communicating. We make dark jokes and try to wrap our minds around the details of Imogen's care. We hold hands and wait out procedures--the Big Surgery and all the smaller interventions that keep Imogen stable. We talk about how we're feeling. I'm reminded that even though I am not the kind of person who would say I married my best friend (I dated that guy and things didn't work out), I can say with some surety that the man I married has become my soulmate.
It's a beautiful thing, really. But we would rather have done it in Tahiti.