I know, that doesn't sound like that big of a deal, right? I mean it's not 10, 15... 50. But to me it is.
I have I mentioned that my husband is 26? Yeh?
I'm 23.
I'll give you a second to do that math. You got it? Is your mouth hanging open yet? Yeh, I thought so, that's what I usually get.
Yes, I was 17. I'm happy that we're getting this all in the open here. We had Blythe Anne 2 weeks before I turned 17 (January 5, 2004). The following July we got hitched. Mostly just to make his mom shut the hell up. But you're living in siiiiiin living together and not being married. Yeh yeh yeh, we have a baby too, is that what really bothers you? It wasn't that I didn't love him, I just never wanted anyone to say that the kids were the only reason we were married. Never. I wanted to prove that there was more to it. I now know that people are going to think whatever they want to no matter what. So I guess I should have just gone on and married him as soon as I peed on that pregnancy test.
6 years.
The first 3, he was only home for 9 months because of his job. We nearly fell apart before we even got started good. We both went into this with the belief that divorce was not an option. I felt like I didn't even know this person that would come home (visit?) for two weeks after being gone a month. I finally broke down and begged him to quit his job. Find something else. This isn't working and I can't do this.
And he did. Because he is awesome. He quit his supper easy job, to go work in the oil field. Now that's love right there. He didn't do it because the pay was better, or because he just LOVES to be coverd in oil and grease and pipe dope and mud day after day (yeh right), , he did it to save our marriage.
At first it was hard, holy crap, you're only gone for 7 days and then you come home for 7 days? And there have been plenty of other hard times in the past three years since he started in the oil field, but the good out weighs the bad.
6 years.
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