I saw this a few months ago on Facebook.

It hit me directly in the gut. I knew exactly the divisions my life had been separated into. Before and after my last relationship/before and after my recent diagnosis. Both were about the same time. Both were so devastating that I thought for sure my life may as well end right then.

My heart was broken. I loved someone who didn’t love me. I had trusted someone who didn’t care about me. I had let myself be vulnerable with someone who used that to their advantage. It felt as though someone had ripped my heart out of my chest and beaten me within inches of my life.

I thought maybe it was the heartbreak that made my body shut down. Things stopped working. Legs, hands, mouth – and if you know me, that’s a big deal right there. My cognitive abilities went to sleep and woke up unimaginable pain in my head. I thought the headaches were from the oceans of tears pouring out of my body but couldn’t explain the rest.

All I knew was that I felt like I was going to die and that I honestly wanted to. Then I went to the doctor and found out that I am. Slowly, painfully. That felt like the moment they were talking about in the quote. Clearly the definitive before and after, right?

Since then my Beth has been taking care of me in so many ways. She’s helping me learn to live with my diagnosis. She’s helping me learn how to take care of myself when I feel like a hot poker is trying to push my brain through my eye socket. But it’s more than that.

This breathtaking woman is not only beautiful, she’s brilliant. She has a wit that matches mine, in both speed and sharpness. There’s nothing she can’t make more beautiful, whether it be canvas on an easel, words spoken or written, pencil to a sketchbook, even this redhead’s unruly hair.

And look at those incredible children. I’ve never met such socially aware, intelligent, loving people. I’m so excited to watch them grow into who they want to be. Because their mom passed on to them big dreams and the wondrous passion to follow them.

There’s nothing she can’t do. And she never stops trying to improve herself, her kids’ lives, her environment, our world. She starts small.

To start, she’s sharing with me her extraordinary family who I cannot imagine my life without.

She’s helping me learn to be more gentle with myself, more patient. She’s teaching me how to love myself by loving me so beautifully. She’s teaching me to forgive myself by forgiving me so selflessly.

She has done something that my previous relationships had completely destroyed. She has made me feel lovable.

As I look at her endless blue eyes and hear her laugh that can lift you up out of the deepest abyss, I know that she is my defining moment.

There was before Beth. And there is after Beth.

I am so excited about after Beth. There is love. There are mistakes and forgiveness. There are laughter and joy. There are tears and sadness. There are sick kids and band recitals and dance practices and godforsaken golf tournaments that require us to take kids to school before anyone should be awake. There are migraines to go around and doctor’s appointments for everyone. There’s falling down stairs for grown women who happen to have their camera open and catch a decent picture and lesions on the brain that get worse. There are road trips and tarantulas named Jason. There are corny jokes and powerpoints of the cat. There are wizards and Barbies and pallets on the floor. There are mommies kissing and sneaking wanting glances.

There is a wedding.

There is a future. There is forever.