The unexpected, full life we were given

It’s the Fourth of July and I reach to turn on patriotic music.

The same patriotic music that I used to give my mother an eye roll over.

Why? Because the toddler will smile. He will march in beat with the drums and we will all smile.

I see now why she always played it, despite the eye-rolling teenagers. I see now why she did countless things that I once found worthy of an eye-roll.

We scramble to get everyone fed, dressed, and ready for the day —one of us solely in charge of soothing the baby who has decided to be upset today.

Today is something special, especially for the sentimental couple that we are.

We make our way to a favorite place and set up for a picnic in the very same spot —the very same spot where he got down on one knee and I said yes with a look of shock.

After just over a month of dating he caught me off guard and asked if we could start planning the wedding.

Today there are no rose petals. There’s no picnic basket with gourmet food.

There is a grocery bag with premade sandwiches from the local convenience store. There is a baby tucked into a car seat.

There are two people who have snapped at each other over silly things earlier that morning. Two people who have learned to value a quiet moment together. Two people who daily depend on each other to make it through life.

Where there once was starry eyes and rose-colored glasses, there is now a deep well of tested love that has years ahead to grow and flourish.

We reminisce on the one summer of us.

The one summer that started with a picnic date with a bouquet of flowers and ended with a wedding, as leaves started to fall.

It was short —shorter than most.

We assumed we’d have a year or so of us after the white dress was tucked away and the flower bouquets had dried.

A year or so of the newlywed days.

But then we determined that a baby would still fit well with newlywed life, so why wait?

This led to our very first Christmas together laced with the fresh grief of miscarrying our very first child.

Then six months or so later we wrapped our minds around an unexpected change, while I carried our second little baby inside we signed papers and met with social workers to add two more to our family.

Three kiddos by the end of our very first year.

We did not get a year or so of newlywed days.

As the world around us would have it —we were deprived of our prime.

What some couples carefully plan for, we willingly, with much trepidation and some pain, let go of.

We would learn to do life with children in toe.

We would embrace chaos.

We would hold hands in the car while listening to songs from the day we said our vows while a baby cried in the backseat because he simply doesn’t like the car.

We would sneak in dates when the babysitters could actually be found.

We would hide away in our room for just a few minutes of uninterrupted conversation.

We would walk through hard days of attempting to bond with children, not your own.

We would sometimes wonder what life would have been like had we taken the other way.

Quiet. Peaceful. Empty?

The fact is, the world would have you wait.

And perhaps you ought to?

But perhaps take this one truth to heart— that the same world that would have you wait, would also tell you that life is but a choice within your realm of control and that children are more of a bother than anything else.

So we answer the ten year olds tenth question in a row.

We smile with traces of exhaustion from the baby that kept us up.

We look at each other with hearts full enough to burst wide open at the sheer joy of watching little lives grow.

We sing loud to silly songs while the dishes are done.

We give in to the request for just “one-more” book before bed.

We enjoy family games of badminton at dusk.

We did not get the quiet start.

We were given abundance right from the start.

We see now that we are better for it.