What it Means to Me

Womanhood, motherhood, and marriage. What are those things, to me? Everything. I am not defined only by these things, but they are my greatest accomplishments. I wake up everyday with a desire to improve myself in those areas. I’m far from perfect. I fail sometimes. I love being a wife and mother. My own mother didn’t show me how to do these things well. I’ve just known since I was very small that I wanted to be a good wife and mama. I love being a woman. I appreciate being treated like one. Not in a sexist, misogynistic way. I’m talking about things like Adam opening the car door for me, always pumping the gas at the station, insisting that he sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door so that he can be first to get to anyone who might enter with intentions to harm us. He lifts heavy things so that I don’t have to. With ease, he opens jars I struggle with. And, of course, he spanks my ass, occasionally with intent to “teach me a lesson”. I crave a dominant man who encourages, even insists, on my submission when it counts. I am most confident and happy when I am reminded that he is never going to let me down. I feel safe when he protects me, even if it’s from myself and my own screw ups sometimes. I’m proud to be called his wife. I’m blessed to be the mother of his children. I appreciate when he treats me like a woman. I’m not a man. That doesn’t make me less valuable. I see it as Adam showing me that he values my happiness, security, safety, and well being even more than his own. Being loved like this is something I never knew was possible.

One day, hopefully a long while from now, when my eulogy is read, if it simply says “beloved wife, mother, sister, daughter, and friend”, I am most proud to have been those things.

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