Today is my third anniversary. My wedding seems like it was yesterday and like it was fifty years ago all at the same time. It feels like I can remember every detail and yet every detail seems to blur into a whirl of dancing and dreaming and toasting and laughing and vowing to be there--through it all. I know that "it all" is yet to come. We'll have heartache that will put any previously experienced heartache to shame. We'll look back on any pain we've been in thus far and laugh. And hopefully through the real pain, the real suffering, the reality that one of us will bury the other, we'll stand strong. All I know is that I love my husband 45 billion times more than I did the day I married him. And, as he coached me through the birth of our son, I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that my love for him was returned. Because he looked at me like I was his hero for bringing Garrett into the world. And as I sit here and write, with my three week old on my lap, I know that it just might not get better than this. It might not get better than the real-life-fireworks-exploding-just-like-in-the-movies-love that I share with my spouse. It might not ever get better than this little tiny family I have for myself. And if this is as good as it gets, I have been incredibly blessed.