02/14/2026
We were engaged when I was told I might never be able to get pregnant. I knew he dreamed of having kids, and so I gave him the option to leave. But he stayed. He chose me regardless of my ability to fulfill that dream. He loved me more.
Weâd been married less than two years when I miscarried our first baby. He held me as I cried, his heart breaking with mine. And he loved me more.
We celebrated our third anniversary along with our third loss. And he reminded me that he would always hold my heart gently and securely. He loved me more.
We got pregnant with our rainbow baby later that spring, and celebration our fourth anniversary with a newborn. He stepped up through that pregnancy, keeping me and Baby fed and safe. He was our advocate and our gentle place. And he supported me in that postpartum like the proudest Daddy and the strongest partner. He loved me more.
He watched me struggle through postpartum anxiety, and he gently held my heart. He reminded me of truth when I couldnât see it. He loved me more.
He carried me through another pregnancy â one that rocked us both with how mentally and physically demanding it was. He was my rock through another birth and postpartum. He kept our family afloat while I was in the hospital with a septic blood infection. He loved me more.
Heâs always loved me more. More than his own dreams. More than his own need for rest. More than his own desire to quit. He selflessly loves me more. More than he loves himself.
Iâm so grateful God gave me this incredible man.
I only hope to love him half as well.
