TRUE LOVE STORY
e Ch
pter
enting cheeks full of pimples. You turned my head and looked
ee hours to tell you three small words: I like you.
pisodes of Roswell and Buffy, which you taped for me because I was grounded.
s, she doesn't," he said, as he ordered you to learn on your own in the l
sy slope. You brought me strawberries and your mom's tuna sandwiches. We
pte
up. I spent the night in tears; for you, it was already morning. When I woke, I called you. "I'm sorry," I sai
twice a month. And each time, my renewed amazement at how easily your arms wra
ter
. We road tripped down south from New Orleans to Charleston. For two consummate homebodies, we sure did love our escapes. And when we returned, we binged TV show
ter
er, to even it out. I'm sometimes forced to go into another room to avoid hearing people chew. I pee an average of
o more socks and the hamper is overflowing. Your snoring wakes me up and keeps me from falling back asleep.
ter
pain of my monthly cramps was not the o
y skin, we somehow became indestructible. Pain and heartache and longing between us both, I never felt closer
ertilized, 2 remaining
fertilized, 3 remainin
ngle left to transfer. A strong, beaut
val; those embryos that died out too soon; or the ones that merel
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ink about that second one, the one I lost; the one who might have been Asher's twin. I like to think he sac
ashbacks to that day, when I almost died; and the next 8 weeks in the NICU. We cried ourselves to sleep for weeks, wishing, hoping, and praying for our child living in an i
ter
We haven't slept through the night in years. The other day, I hired a babysitter so I could take a nap. We missed the Irish twin cutoff by 2 months, a
ter
unging, on our computers, watching TV. There's love in the consistency, in the mundane. Excitement is
ght in the middle of an argument and I still haven't forgiven you. You come home from a long day, bringing me kisses and sweet pot
ter
and feed them breakfast and drive them to school. "You're suc
pte
desperately need a Diet Coke, even though I told you not to buy it earlier when you were at the supermarket. And you make me feel loved. You make me laugh every single day. You still look into my eyes and tell me I'm beautiful, and I feel as though we are 16 again. And 23. And 32. However old we grow, we get th
ves my shortcomings and adores my quirks; to the fathe