Dear Seth
We met when we were both 18 years old. We were kids.
Love evolves over time. It evolves from dating to engagement- you don't get engaged (well, hopefully) to someone you don't love. It evolves in your first year of marriage as you really get to know one another. It evolves after you've had your first child. It constantly changes as you go through your same/same day-to-day routines to your mental year in review on New Year's Eve. I often think "damn that was hard, thank God for Seth because he's amazing at keeping his head and being so supportive." Little did I know that wasn't even scratching the surface of my amazement at what you're capable of doing.
I could never imagine that we'd go through the most undeniably difficult moments together. I figured we've had our share of difficult through evacuating Cairo, living in Dubai, travelling with two tiny children and being out of our comfort zones for 5 years. All difficult, but our situation now deserves a gold medal for degree of difficulty.
The new degree of difficulty was watching my husband, Seth, gently convince and then shave my daughter's head. Our 6 year old daughter has rhabdomyosarcoma. As we watched her pull her hair out in clumps in a hospital bed we knew it was time to shave it. Seth was the only one that could convince her that it was finally time to shave her head. Seth was the only one who could muster up the guts to be the person to shave her head. He did it without any words or tearing up. I can't say the same for myself. I don't know what part of you had to be pushed down, and what new part of you rose up to do it- whatever it was isn't something many people are capable of doing.
Dear Seth,
I've never loved you more than right now. All my past selves- 18, newly engaged, first year of marriage, first baby under out belt, first overseas move, second overseas move- those girls didn't know how good they had it. Even though they did,they still had no clue.
Love evolves over time. It evolves from dating to engagement- you don't get engaged (well, hopefully) to someone you don't love. It evolves in your first year of marriage as you really get to know one another. It evolves after you've had your first child. It constantly changes as you go through your same/same day-to-day routines to your mental year in review on New Year's Eve. I often think "damn that was hard, thank God for Seth because he's amazing at keeping his head and being so supportive." Little did I know that wasn't even scratching the surface of my amazement at what you're capable of doing.
I could never imagine that we'd go through the most undeniably difficult moments together. I figured we've had our share of difficult through evacuating Cairo, living in Dubai, travelling with two tiny children and being out of our comfort zones for 5 years. All difficult, but our situation now deserves a gold medal for degree of difficulty.
The new degree of difficulty was watching my husband, Seth, gently convince and then shave my daughter's head. Our 6 year old daughter has rhabdomyosarcoma. As we watched her pull her hair out in clumps in a hospital bed we knew it was time to shave it. Seth was the only one that could convince her that it was finally time to shave her head. Seth was the only one who could muster up the guts to be the person to shave her head. He did it without any words or tearing up. I can't say the same for myself. I don't know what part of you had to be pushed down, and what new part of you rose up to do it- whatever it was isn't something many people are capable of doing.
Dear Seth,
I've never loved you more than right now. All my past selves- 18, newly engaged, first year of marriage, first baby under out belt, first overseas move, second overseas move- those girls didn't know how good they had it. Even though they did,they still had no clue.
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