09 January 2013

worst second honeymoon ever.

cafeteria window reflection.

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.


Hannah said...

I really appreciate that you don't think you married your best friend either. I love my Chris to bits, and he's one of my all time favorite people...but he's not my best friend. He's my husband.

You know I'm thinking of you. Wish we lived closer and could visit.

melissa q. at a happy stitch said...

Oh how I wish I could send you to Hawaii. Have to admit that as much as I LOVED the latest picture of Imogen up close (on [dear heart]), something in me wanted to tear out the tubes and sweep her away from there. Little precious.


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