A (kind of) love letter to my husband.

After a year like this, most people would’ve thrown in the towel.

A stroke, cancer, two failed IVF attempts at $35,000 cash, a psycho and delusional ex-wife, and a severely misinformed and emotionally unhealthy teenager, and here we are, clinging to passion and faith. Now how’s that for a testament of love and commitment.

Yesterday was our four-year wedding anniversary. There have been a lot of tears, a lot of disappointments, a lot of obstacles in our marriage this year. But I’ve never been more proud of anything in my life.

Oh, and there’s been lots of great sex.

What first attracted me to my husband, aside from the fact that when he walks in the room I transform into some kind of John Mayer-esque groupie who fumbles words and has to will my clothes to stay on, is that he’s playful. I know that if I show up at his office right now and tell him to ditch work so we can go golf or mountain bike or ding dong ditch some unsuspecting friends, he’d do it. He makes life fun. He dares me to jump out of airplanes, and snowboard over rails, and I do it because I know he will do it with me.

Yesterday he had a bunch of coworkers and students call me to wish me a happy anniversary. He sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers to my office. It was not lost on me that he was publicly displaying his love for me to make it known that he’s still in this with me, proud of me, committed to me…even though his son and ex-wife are going to such ridiculous and untrue lengths to spread otherwise. I appreciate the little things he does like that.

Every once in a while he reads my blog so I figure what better time and place to make my own public statement of my appreciation for him?

Sometimes the little, unspoken but understood things he does for me mean more than the big stuff. For example, sharing his French fries with me is nothing short of an act of God. The dude loves him some carbs and I’m sure he fantasizes about going all ninja on my hands any time I reach for his food. But instead through gritted teeth he smiles at me and offers me more.

Also, I love nothing more than sitting at bars with friends or being at parties. He has hobbies like fishing, but I relax and find fun through socializing. He can’t stand parties or crowded bars. It baffles him why I would want to sit and sip whiskey for hours, so when he shows up and does it with me, it makes me really, really happy.

When we found out IVF didn’t work, he came to my office with lunch. He had the top off the Jeep and country music blaring on the radio (I love to drive around aimlessly like that), and I know what he was trying to show me is that our life together is still going to be fun and full of romance.

He’s kind, thoughtful and full of integrity. I trust him and depend on him. I respect how hard he works and how he always takes the high road. He’s a gift for sure and I’m thankful he loves me back.

So even though I’m not happy right now, and there’s a black cloud hanging over us, I still want what I wanted on Sept. 6 four years ago: a life with him.

Even through all this crap, I am one lucky bitch.