all by myself

So according to "Mormon Standard Time," I got married rather late in life (I was 26). When I graduated from high school, I figured my life would go just like I planned: I'd do a few years of college, then when he got home from his mission, I'd marry the first boy I ever loved, and we'd live happily ever after.

Of course, life didn't happen the way I planned, but it still happened. I did five years of college, a few at Dixie, a few more at BYU, and I became an editing monster. I worked in the Communications world, chiefly as an editor, both in St. George at SkyWest Airlines and then in Salt Lake, at a "boutique" PR firm, both jobs that I loved. I dated a little, fell in love again, dated a little more. But for the most part, I was just single. And I was pretty okay with that. I even lived alone for a year. People would often ask me if I got lonely. And I suppose there were moments, but for the most part I quite enjoyed my life. I woke up when I wanted to (really early to run, run, run), I made the bed if I felt like it (always), I made dinner if I was feeling hungry enough (rarely). I went where I wanted, when I wanted. Looking back, it was a rather selfish time of life, but I didn't mean for it to be so. I was just trying my best to be happy and single.

Jess and I were set up on a blind date by my then boss. I remember on our first date, Jess asked me a question somewhere along the lines of, "What do you really want out of life?" (Yes, he asked me that on our first date.) I remember fumbling for words, sputtering out some half thought through answer. Because what I wanted to say was, "To have a family. To be a good wife. To be a good mom." But I thought that sounded too simple. And besides, I was strong. I was single and strong and no one needed to know otherwise.

For a few days, Jess is in D.C. with one of his friends from Utah. I didn't go chiefly because if my brain even contemplates the thought of walking around all day, my feet respond by swelling to the size of balloons. But as he left yesterday morning, my highly charged, emotional, pregnant self had teary eyes. As I sat and watched American Idol all alone, a show that Jess doesn't even like yet that he watches just because he loves me, I remembered how it was to do these things alone. And I suddenly felt overwhelming gratitude for him, for our marriage. I missed making dinner (or at least contemplating it). I missed his sleepy voice in the morning. And I realized that while I was definitely okay on my own, I'm infinitely better when I'm with him. There's something about having him in the same room that makes me feel normal.

And if I'm being honest, I even missed making his side of the bed. :)