And I love him.

So, I find myself in Northwestern Arkansas in the midst of another round of winter weather. I'm nearly 36 weeks pregnant, and suddenly I also find myself feeling in many respects, everything that really needs to be done has been done to prepare for the next phase of life. We have purchased and put together almost all of the necessities for bringing Willow home and getting her off to a good start. And we just ticked off the last must-do on my list--baby bump photos, both shareable and non-shareable.

I have respectfully been listening to, and occasionally ignoring the kindly advice of others, and frequently protesting that I am fearless in the face of becoming a new mom.

The truth is, last week, I did find myself fearful and profoundly consumed by it for about an hour and a half. I wasn't afraid of keeping Willow alive or knowing what to do for her. I think I will be able to keep her alive, and I know that I will just have to learn everything I need to do for her as we go along. What frightened me was thinking about the last 21 years with my husband--18 of which (almost) we have been married. It sounds like a long time in some respects, and in comparison to how most people play this whole starting a family thing out, it is a long time to be together--just the two of us.

But it still occurred to me that this time of just the two of us is coming to an end. It's a happy thing, of course, because we wanted Willow so much (and of course we still do). Even so, it's amazing what you fail to recognize and appreciate until you see it drawing to a close. And with the challenges of the last several years, we have become so much closer and stronger than I knew possible. That's not to say that the previous years weren't important or good--they were, but it was all so different. I think there were times that we forgot to be as close as we should have been and we let other things and people fill in spaces we didn't know were there. When push really came to shove for us, we were reminded of how much we needed each other, and how little the rest of the world really understood or mattered in the scheme of that need. Even though the hard times we have faced were so hard that I would never find a way to be grateful for them or want to relive them, I finally know the purpose they served. They recreated us as a couple and made us stronger than I could have ever imagined. But the other thing they did was make us incredibly close.

The day before we learned Willow was coming. An ending and a beginning in many ways.

In my moment of mourning for the time of just us coming to a close, my fear wasn't about the trips we won't still be able to take, or the concerts we won't be able to go to, or the other silly things we won't be able to do. The fear was that somehow, in the midst of this gigantic change, I will be swept away with all the things with which new, tired and struggling moms get swept away with, and in spite of my best intentions and efforts, the love of my life will get pushed to the back seat--that I will fail, and he will not have as much of me as I want him to have, and as much as he deserves.

And right about now, people in the know are protesting, "Yes, things will change for you, but they will change for him too, and you both will adjust." I'm a smart woman, and I do know this, but caught in a hormonal drift, all you know and care about is what you feel. And as I sobbed nearly breathlessly for an hour and half, and I find myself doing the same right now, nobody's wise words or logic really matter to me.

When I realized in the fall how deeply my life and my friendship with Jeph had changed, it became an urgent matter to me for him to know how much I depend upon him and love him so much. I have no regrets or sadness about the quiet of my new life. I don't find myself fidgety or lonely. It's because this love has filled all the spaces I used to allow other things to creep into. That's not to say I don't love and care about my friends, but it's different now. Jeph is my very best friend, and my person--my one person that I can't be without.

As we have entered February, and Valentine's Day is on the horizon, it occurs to me that most years, I write some blog about how you should show your significant other how you care for them everyday. Then I usually go on some rant about commercialism and blah, blah, blah. I'm not going to do that this year. I still believe those things, but I also know that sometimes it's hard for people to do what they should be doing every single day--for many reasons. And if you need a day or an excuse to open up and tell someone you love how much they mean to you--take it. It's good practice for when you figure it out and realize that you should do it every single chance you have, and in every way that you can.

I never expected to be eight months pregnant and so changed by a love that I have been a part of for more than two decades. I'm sure that the excuse of hormones and pregnancy could be the underlying "blame" for this profound difference in my emotions, but in so many ways, I have never felt this way before. I have never been so deeply in love before, and I have never been willing to be so demonstratively so.

I am grateful for his amazing understanding and acceptance of all of the challenges the last eight months have brought to me physically and emotionally--all while in the midst of trying to face so many obstacles and challenges of his own. I am aware of everything he does to show he cares, even when in some of those moments I am not appreciative because of my own issues. I am aware of how important this love is, not just to the two of us, but to our daughter as we raise her to know what love really is and what we hope her life will offer to her as well.

We don't always learn. We don't always get the opportunity to fall in love with the love of our life all over again, and more deeply than we did to begin with. But every single day, we have the option to love our people the best way we know how, and maybe the more we practice--even in small ways, we get better, and we learn to give things we didn't know we were capable of giving.

It's about five hours until he will be home. I know that I need to get over the hormonal shift--every bit as strong as the shifting of a tectonic plate--and remember that as much as things will change, I will have the only person in the world that I want right there as they do, and he will continue to love me just as much as I love him.

Magnificent--U2

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