This morning in the car I nearly turned to Joe and said that it’s not possible that we’ve been married for two years, it just doesn’t seem true. It doesn’t seem like we’ve been together for over four years either. It seems like we’ve been together forever and not very long at all.

We started dating at the end of March 2005 (something our friends still don’t believe, they think we were keeping our relationship secret until he stopped being my boss, but they should know that we weren’t very good at hiding it at all). We first kissed on March 27, 2005. By August 2005 we were moving in together, in December 2005 we got a dog and in July 2006 we gotĀ engaged – and then it took us a whole other year to actually get married.

At least twice during that year I tried to convince him not to marry me. I told him he deserved better and I didn’t deserve it so good. He didn’t believe me. I told him I was only going to end up causing him pain and he didn’t believe me. In truth I don’t think I would have survived the last four years without him, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever lose him. He is my strength, he keeps me safe when I feel like I’m drowning and he is my best friend.

Now we’ve been married for two years and we’re expecting our first child (who, based on this pregnancy, may very well be our only child). But these two years have not been smooth sailing.

Almost immediately after the wedding I lost my job and since we had been talking about moving closer to our families out west, we made the decision that I would go to stay with my mother in Saskatchewan and try to find a job while he finished a contract here. I left at the beginnning of January and he was to joing me in March. It was hell. There was not a day that I didn’t cry, didn’t worry about how all this was going to work out, didn’t think he’d find a way to build his life here in a better way, didn’t think we might never see each other again.

And then things turned around a bit – after three weeks I found a term job back home that would end about the same time his term job would, which meant we would be in the same city and have two incomes again. And then I got extended, and extended, and extended – I’m approaching my two year anniversary here too. And he found another job, long-term permanent, and suddenly our plans had changed completely again.

Part of this job that I fell into, though, involves going away for work. Last summer I spent all of July and August in Montreal, and then when I came back I was working 14 to 16 hour days for another month and a half. I think it was worse being at home knowing he was around and I couldn’t see him than being away and only being able to talk on the phone.

So basically, I consider us married for two years, minus the nearly three months I was away, minus a month and a half when I was doing nothing but working and sleeping.

It still seems like forever and not very long at all.

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