As a merchant marine we had an AB that made money in bar’s by betting that he had your name tattooed on his behind after putting the money on the bar,he would pull down his pants and show a tattoo that read” your name”
It could be argued that I choose this – this painful, screaming label which keeps me so separate – because there is always the ongoing choice I make to stay with the man I married and to honour our wedding vows, because damnit, I just can’t stop loving him, in spite of how much more convenient it might be if I could cast him off. Love is rarely about convenience.
In sickness and in health…ah, how little we knew. We were not forewarned that this vow would mean us pledging our lives to infertility and heartbreak. Nor to depression. Nor to the desolation of knowing that our two, miscarried babies would probably be our only ones – we thought we were committing to one another and the start of a new life spent fulfilling all our expectations for ‘How Marriage Should Be’. Life is rarely about fulfilled expectations.
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