Tomorrow marks two years that I’ve been married to my husband. We’ve actually been together for three years, but married for two if you get what I’m saying. Still being a young couple, I had decided to make everything special to mark two years together. Our honeymoon and the first anniversary had compromised traveling to Billings and getting away from everyone, but we wanted something different this year. We were going to go up to a lake up around Sunlight (that’s the Northwest part of Wyoming if you don’t know) and making a loop down to Cody for some Chinese. Secretly, I had also made plans to surprise him in the bedroom ***wink wink***. I worked every detail of that special part out. The whole scenario looked good and on schedule. I was like the sneaky villain rubbing my hands, anticipating for that day.

Then I started bleeding on Friday.

Bleeding earlier than usual.

As a woman, I’ve always been self conscious about my wonderful time of the month. It’s been something that I haven’t enjoyed all my life as it has inhibited me more than most other women my age.

This was just another reason of why I hated it.

In fact, I was afraid to come forward to my husband. My past abusive relationship had inhibited me from coming forward with things, as my ex would get mad at me. He would especially get mad if I started my period, stating that I had ruined all of his plans for me that day. I remember he would take off to town and I wouldn’t hear from him for several days, leaving me crying and ashamed of myself.

I thought my husband would feel that way, so I tried to be quiet about what was going on. However, as the day progressed, I realized there was no way I could hide anything.  So as the sun was setting outside and my husband and I were just chatting, I blurted out that I had started my period. I apologized to my husband for ruining our plans for our anniversary, hoping that I would soften the disappointment I thought was building inside of him. When I had finished, I anticipated the groans and him rolling his eyes. I anticipated him stating that we would just stay home and he would sulk at his computer.

Instead, he just sat there in our green hand me down chair, smiled, and said, “Honey, you don’t need to apologize. What matters to me is that I’m with you for our anniversary. We have plenty of years to make sparks in the bedroom. It doesn’t have to be that one day. I’m still looking forward to going to the mountain and going out for dinner.”

I thought I would fall out of the couch.

In these two years, I’m praising God that I have a man that sees my insecurities and loves me anyway. I praise God that my husband loves me, even though my body doesn’t want to cooperate. He loves me through sickness and health. He loves me even though I’m not some hot super model on the runway. He loves me through my imperfections. He loves me even though I was abused.


Our plans ended up changing anyway. Wyoming weather as usual, decided to bring heavy rains to the mountains. Instead, my husband and I rode our bikes to the coffee shop where we had our first date. We rode down to the park where we would sit for hours and chat when we were dating. We sat in that same spot today and chatted. And we are still having Chinese.

All I can say is two years down, many more years to come.

*This blog entry is dedicated to my loving husband. I love you honey!


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