Today we wake up and lift a warm coffee cup to you, dear man. Here we are another year together, you – another year older. And each year, I find myself again feeling exceedingly blessed to be your wife.

I look back and I think of all we’ve been through together. We’ve had more than our fair share of hardships (in my opinion). We’ve been through things (and are still going through things) many of our friends couldn’t even imagine. We got to start off our married life pretty poor. That little house we bought had a lot of problems and we did our best to try and keep up with them. We learned quickly how to survive on very little ($6 for a week’s worth of groceries is an interesting challenge). Ramen noodle was our go to meal and we became experts at spicing up mac and cheese. But somehow it didn’t really get us down. We had each other and we were still blissfully happy together.

And then the house burnt down. We had already upgraded the bathroom and kitchen and completely revamped the basement just days before… and in a few short minutes it was all gone… everything. We spent hours digging through the ash and soot that was once our home. We had mounds of insurance paperwork to do, necessities to replace, arrangements to be made until things started moving. It easily could have been an overwhelming and devastating time… and yet… it wasn’t. We were alive. We were together. We had each other. And we were happy.

And for the past seven years, we have been battling… fighting to grow our family into the one we’ve always dreamed of. We’ve been through countless doctor appointments and drove thousands of miles. We’ve been poked and prodded and we pinched and saved. We did everything “right” and yet we were told IVF was our only option to conceive. An option God called us away from despite our own desires. And here we are almost 15 months into waiting for a baby through adoption with still no end in sight.

This… this more than anything breaks my heart for you this year. Because I know how much this means to you. I may be the one who speaks up and voices this reality to others. But so often the man who wants children goes unnoticed… uncared for. You, the 8-year-old boy, who when asked what you wanted to be when you grew up said a dad… You, the high schooler who worked with special needs children and somehow managed to befriend the children who experienced real trauma. You, the young man I watched play with little cousins at family get togethers with such enthusiasm and joy. You, the man who is always looking out for our friends’ and families’ children. You, the man who has stood solidly by my side through all of our struggles, who’s lifted me up when I fall to my knees.

Ryan – if there was one gift I could give you it would be this. The gift of fatherhood. I truly know no man who is more suited for the role. It kills me a little every day that the one thing I know would bring you such happiness, the one thing that I truly believe God designed you to do – is something I don’t have the power to give. But I can give you all that I have – my love, my trust, companionship, my heart. I promised it almost nine years ago now, and I hold true to it today – You have my whole heart for my whole life. I will always be beside you. Because I truly cannot imagine my life without you in it. You have always been the greatest thing that ever happened to me. And though I know how strong you are… that you don’t really need me… I am always here for you. I love you my, dear man! May you have a wonderful day today and all the days to come!