He doesn’t buy me flowers

He rarely tells me I look pretty. When I first married him, I thought — this was an issue we will definitely need to work on. I cringe at how much I reminded him that first year of how he wasn’t measuring up in this area. The poor guy resorted to calendar reminders to remember to buy me cards or text me something sweet. I would see the reminders pop on the iPad we shared –there is nothing sexy about “romance” scheduled. Or is there?

My love language is words of affirmation, so I blossom when I hear those “sweet nothings,” but that is the problem, they are sweet, and they are nothing. They don’t hold your hair when you are vomiting sick with the flu. They don’t hold the bed pan so you can pee after another stinking fertility procedure. They don’t shave your legs for you when are pregnant and can’t reach a spot. They don’t hold you, crouched down in the hallway in the middle of the night, muffling your sobs after experiencing a loss. Job loss, baby loss, family member loss…

He doesn’t give me sweet nothings, he gives me sweet everything. Everything that is so real and so true, and so right. He is THERE for me. He loves me. He supports me. He encourages me. He cries with me.

I am SO lucky we get to do this life together.