Out of a coma

You know, every once in a while, it is as though I come out of a coma, look around me and think, "Wow, How did I get here?" Two bedroom basement suite. Our oven in our pretty kitchen, our lamp, and our coffee table that my man crafted. Ample space for all our needs, plus a little more. 

I look at the man who I call "hun" & "baby" & "B". Amazing that it has been 15 months since we joined forces and made 'er official. 

Then, I look at the two little boys that occupy so much of my heart's territory and whose tiny belongings somehow get scattered to every corner by the end of every day. Socks. Soothers. Blankets. Books.

"How did I get here?"

Seems like I waited forever in a line-up to live the life that I am now engulfed in. I married at 22 years old. Still just a young one, but you may not know how many days of dying it took to get me here. So many others before me have lived in basement suites, had husbands, and had babies. But, you may not understand. This is what I prayed for and cried for, then surrendered and gave up on.

I turned myself in and admitted that I would rather be lonely and full than married and empty. And I am grateful to say that I am married and full.