I thought I loved him that day, driving in his car, running some errands before class. I thought spending the rest of my life doing ordinary things like this with him would be the most wonderful thing, and I didn't think I could love him more, but then I did.
I loved him more the night he proposed, on that san diego beach.
I loved him more the day of our wedding, when my cheeks were about to break from smiling.
I loved him more when he held my hair back as our tiny fetus made me lose my lunch, breakfast, and dinner.
I loved him more when he brought me midnight bowls of oatmeal to quell my nausea.
I loved him more that night we totaled our car, and wound up in the hospital overnight.
I loved him more when I watched him hold our newborn son in his arms, and pride beamed from his face.
I loved him more as I watched him stay up, rocking our baby to sleep.
I loved him more as he worked and studied his hardest to support our dream of me becoming a stay at home mom.
I loved him more as we moved across the country, far from friends and family, and grew together.
I loved him more as we explored each new area we lived in; I love his sense of adventure.
I loved him even more when he carried me to the bathroom because my legs weren't working; I carried the baby and he carried me.
I loved him more as I watched our daughter wrap him around her tiny finger.
I love him as I watch him pray with, and for our children. As he silences their cries and soothes their nightmares. As he quiets their wiggles during church each Sunday. As he wrestles and laughs with them.
I love him more when I see the way he looks at me. I love how he can always make me laugh, but holds me when I cry. I love him more each day, each week, each year, and I'm so glad he's my forever valentine.