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Hey baby, today seems like the day to write down and tell you everything I’ve ever thought. Now, that would be a pretty long list, and if I’m honest most of it would be dirty thoughts about your boobs but I think you get what I mean, and I’m trying to be sentimental here.
The first time I saw you from the stage I think I might have actually stopped breathing, I know I forgot the lyrics and my fingers stuttered over the strings of my guitar, I remember Calum punched me in the square in the arm and did his stupid little giggle at my face. I must’ve looked pretty stupid in front of everyone. I know they all must have been staring at me but all I saw was you amongst the crowd, all I felt was the heat of your eyes on mine and then you smiled. Bright and big, and I remember feeling warm from the inside out in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the stage.
The first time you said I love you we were both half asleep. Curled up like circus contortionists on the ugly armchair your mum gave us when we got our own place, you remember? It was just after that 14 hour flight from LA and you mumbled it against my neck like a cool breeze that I felt all the way down to my spine. I didn’t say it back though, not then. Not yet. I waited until breakfast and said it over only slightly burnt eggs on toast and pulp free orange juice; I made sure you were awake, so you’d always remember. Also I think that was the first time I’d ever been tackle kissed by a girl; but by far the last.
The first scandals hit soon after. Rumours flying that you were cheating, and so was I, that we were breaking up, that you’d moved on, that I was getting high and drowning my sorrows in a bottle of Jack Daniels (okay so that one was a little true but I only tried the pot once and I think we’ve covered the apologies for that one with being your “cuddle slave” for a week and wearing the ridiculous bunny costume to Sydney Harbour, I especially hate you for taking pictures by the way) They didn’t know though. How could they? I didn’t want anyone else, neither did you; we had no plans to break up, that the guy that pap snapped a photo of you with out shopping was your cousin. And when I was feeling particularly weighed down by all the bullshit, the lies; you’d put your hands on either side of my face, look me square in the eye and say ‘I know’. That’s it. Two words and the weight lifted. Because you know who I am, the boys know who I am, the fans know who I am and as long as you do all of that other bullshit just doesn’t matter.
The proposal was probably the hardest secret I’ve ever had to keep. It’s so hard ‘little white lying’ to your face about the small stuff how was I supposed to keep such a huge secret from you. There were a couple of times I almost blurted it out; that night we were walking home from dinner at your mums and it had been raining so you were jumping in puddles just so you could splash me, holding my hand in your warm little one so I wouldn’t run away and grinning at me every time I rolled my eyes and shook water out of my shoes. That morning you came into the kitchen wearing your skinny jeans and my smiley face shirt (I’d wondered where that had gotten to, missing for years you little thief) and it was billowing out around you in the breeze with the sleeves rolled up; you came up behind me and wrapped your arms around my shoulders, face leaning over my shoulder to read the paper. You were so warm and I could feel your boobs against my back (you have an impressive rack okay, and I did warn you at the start of this) I wanted to ask as you kissed my cheek and your hand snaked out for my coffee. The ring in my pocket, burning a hole through my jeans both times.
I’m glad I waited though. Glad I made it perfect and so, so glad you said yes.
After months of planning and agonizing over wedding details the day seemed to be upon us quicker than I ever imagined it could be. I still don’t know how we managed to get everything done in those few short months but one day we were crazy wedding planners, talking about which flowers needed to go in the centrepieces and if we could get away with just serving people dessert because it was so much easier and more fun to organize, and the next day you were my wife and we were married. I’ll let you in on a little secret. I was so nervous that day, there was something so grown up about what we were doing, so official and it had consumed practically every thought we’d had for months and it all came down to this moment. But I’ll let you in on another secret, as soon as I saw you, decked out in white and all rosy cheeked under your veil, my heart was hammering and my palms were sweating for a different reason because we were doing this. We were getting hitched and I’d be yours and you’d be mine and everyone would know it. We would be able to wear the specially picked out rings and I could introduce you as my wife. When you stopped in front of me and I lifted your veil you were smiling that same smile from that crowd at that concert all those years ago, and that same warmth spread through me again and this time I think the whole room felt it too.
At the reception we even managed to get my mum a little drunk so I think the party was a hit, even if they had to eat chicken for mains instead of cake and pie.
And now, the reason why I’m sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair scribbling all this down to you, drinking bad nurses lounge coffee while our parents wait outside in the waiting room; our baby. I want you to know that I never wanted to stop trying, not ever. But for all those months we were and for all those months you ended up disappointed. I hated seeing you so sad, so broken, thinking it was your fault, seeing doctors and specialists and crying your eyes out in the shower when you thought I couldn’t hear. I don’t know if I could ever put into words how happy I was when I came home that night nine and a half months ago and saw the pregnancy test stick and the sonogram picture on the kitchen counter, you standing by the sink to watch my reaction, tears running down your cheeks but a smile so bright it could’ve powered a small town. I don’t know if I can ever put it into words but I’ll try; it was like the sun was in my chest. Like all the light was in our little kitchen in the suburbs of Sydney, between the two of us, the two happiest people in the world, and you fell into my arms and we both cried, only this time they were tears of happiness.
And after all that she’s finally coming and I have to admit I’m pretty scared. But so are you, right? I mean, this is a whole person we are going to have to take care of and be responsible for, for like forever. But I know we’ll figure it out, we figured everything else out.
It’s been eight years since that fateful concert that changed my life completely and in that time we’ve been through our share of scandals (both real and made up) but we’ve also shared a lifetime together and now we get to add another little person to our family. Another chair at the kitchen counter, another pair of shoes kicked off at the door, another toothbrush by the sink, another little warm body in our bed.
Right now you’re in the delivery room, squeezing a baby out of your lady parts and this is just two sides of a napkin I stole from the nurse’s lounge but I just wanted you to know how much I love you. How much I will always love both of you. Forever and always.
I think I can hear a baby crying. Our baby. Our little girl. And your ragged voice is calling for me so I guess you made it through okay. I’m going to go and meet our daughter; I’m so excited my hands are shaking a little. Maybe I’ll show this to you both someday. One day. I love you.