Photo: Heidi Marshal Photography
A lot can change in three years.
As I write this, I am sitting uncomfortably bundled up in our living room, 9ish months pregnant and 3.5 weeks shy of giving birth to our first child. My feet are swollen, my wedding rings no longer fit, and it feels like this baby is doing backflips in my belly. It’s a mildly uncomfortable, wholly beautiful place to be.
But three years ago, I was teetering on the edge of wondering if I would ever start a family.
Mainly because my now-husband had successfully diverted my attention away from anything even hinting at the idea of marriage.
“What’s next for us?” I had asked him that October. To him it may have sounded like a direct dive into “Why aren’t we married yet?” territory, but all I really had on my mind was a commitment to some kind of timeline, particularly moving in together.
The conversation didn’t go my way.
“It’s not really something I’m thinking about right now, babe,” he said in frustration. “I’m in grad school, the holidays are coming, and everything is so crazy.” Obviously, that was not the answer I was looking for; admittedly, what followed wasn’t my best moment. He still calls it out every time we pass the restaurant where the conversation took place.
“There’s the place where I made you mad.”
Yes, babe. I remember.
Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t upset that he didn’t propose on the spot. I wasn’t expecting anything close to that. But it had taken me about a month to work up the courage to ask the question at all. I finally mustered up the spunk after I truly felt like we might be on the same page. So not only did he shoot me down with one fell swoop, it appeared we weren’t actually on the same page at all. And that was a fairly tough pill for this 30-something, mega-planner to swallow.
Quick backstory: I’ve wanted children since I can remember. I’ve always pictured myself as a mom – twin girls and a boy was how it always manifested in my head – and not having a plan for how to get to that goal stressed me the eff out at times. My twenties hadn’t exactly been ideal breeding ground, with no really serious, long-term relationships to speak of. What I hadn’t yet told Kris (because I actually wanted him to stick around) was that just weeks before he had asked me out on our first date (nearly two years before this story starts), I was making arrangements to see a fertility doctor. Convinced that I would be doomed to repeat my twenties in my thirties, I was resolved to the idea of eventually exploring my dream of motherhood solo, and was preparing to embark on egg freezing.
So when I did end up meeting this funny, amazing human being sitting in front of me, and he did stick around longer than three dates, my always-five-steps-ahead brain was lamenting an insane timeline that no one could have lived up to, and I ended up falling down a rabbit hole of anxiety until I had effectively aged myself out of ever having children, not only with him… but with anyone.
Insane, I know. But anxiety is a fickle thing, and at the time it was overwhelming to have to continue to wonder if we were ever going to be more, let alone if we were going to get to move in together.
What I didn’t know is that earlier that day Kris had ventured out on his very first shopping trip for what would eventually become my engagement ring. His reaction to the question wasn’t because he wasn’t thinking about it; rather he was so caught off guard that I had chosen that night to bring it up. In his retelling of the story, his exact thought process was “Does she know? How the hell did she find out? How can I distract her so that this whole surprise proposal thing works out?”
Thankfully, after a few glasses of wine and a return to reason, I made the quick decision not to be totally insane and instead to give him the year he asked for. Essentially, I promised myself I would not harass him about next steps until he was done with grad school; but dammit if I didn’t have a plan of attack for exactly what I would say come the following year when “time officially ran out.”
By the time we flew to Olympia, Washington in the days following Christmas, the idea that a proposal could be on the horizon was the furthest thing from my mind. Why stress myself out over something I knew was impossible? My husband is a “tell it like it is” kind-of-guy. He doesn’t bullshit and he definitely doesn’t lie. So I knew that there was no shot of anything happening until he was done with grad school. Close the book. End of story.
Of course, I learned later that Kris spent the first few days of that trip attempting to plot out the perfect location. In fact, unbeknownst to me, Kris had been plotting since early November when he first started making attempts to ask my dad for his blessing. He finally made it happen Thanksgiving weekend (while standing in the Wilson driveway, packing the car to go back to LA), but he had asked my dad not to tell anyone – including my mom – so that he could ensure the ultimate surprise.
He chose the rainy afternoon of December 29 to take me to Capitol Lake, a beautiful area just below the Washington Capitol building and adjacent to downtown Olympia. At first we parked on the far side of the lake –the furthest side from town – and started meandering under a shared umbrella, splashing through puddles and enjoying the scenery. Eventually, my lack of rain survival skills got the better of me and I asked if we could please (*please*) move the car closer to town and find shelter out of the rain. This SoCal-raised girl was not holding up well. Mainly because what I thought was appropriate footwear for inclement Pacific Northwest weather was, in fact, not suitable at all. My socks were soaked, my feet were blistering, I was a hot mess and I was trying so hard not to be that annoying person who can’t handle a little wet weather, especially because he had planned this super cute afternoon date, but I just couldn’t hang.
He lovingly obliged my annoying request and eventually we found ourselves perusing old vinyl at Rainy Day Records (the humor is not lost on me) and finally enjoying coffee and tea at the adorable Olympia Coffee. Once the clouds finally parted and a reshuffling of my soaking wet socks produced a more tolerable pain, we decided to walk (read: hike) up to the Capitol building. For anyone who doesn’t know the area – it’s beautiful and well worth the time, but the switchbacks can be killer on soaked feet and a bruised SoCal ego.
“Where would you live if you could live anywhere?” he asked. Odd, I thought. But I liked where his head was finally at.
“Portland or Washington D.C.,” I said. “But honestly, I’d go anywhere as long as I was going there with you.”
“Me too,” he responded. Major heart eyes.
Okay, looking back on it now, it is very clear that he was waiting for the right moment to do something crazy romantic. But again – in my defense – I was in absolute heart protection mode. There was to be no proposal because the man said he needed a year. It had been two months since that conversation and I would have been absolutely nuts to think anything had changed in the meantime. So no… I remained completely oblivious to everything that was right in front of my face. And to be honest, I am so happy that I did.
We drifted back down the hill as it was getting dark and headed out onto a small dock over the water. We plotted new adventures together and rambled on about how much fun the last two years had been. It was all straight-from-the-end-of-a-RomCom-stuff until he abruptly interrupted the moment with, “We should move. It’s too dark here.”
Too dark? I thought. Are we going to get mugged out here?
Moments later we were nestled under our large umbrella further down the lit park pathway. “I hope you know that these past two years have been the happiest of my life,” I said.
Without realizing anything, I had set it up perfectly.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Because if you’ll let me, I’d like to make you happy forever.” He pulled out the ring and got down on one knee. “Will you marry me?” he asked.
I stood there, stunned.
Complete shock overcame me as I tried to process what was happening. Had I suddenly, without realizing it, transported a year into the future? Because by my understanding, this scenario was not possible. “Are you serious?” were the only words I could summon.
His face cringed a little not knowing exactly what to do with my ridiculous reaction. I’m not usually one to be at a loss for words (hello, have you been reading this super long blog post?), but in this particular moment, I couldn’t summon anything that even resembled a coherent thought other than… “Are you serious?”
After repeating the phrase a few more times, I finally gathered myself together enough to give an enthusiastic “Yes!” and broke into tears. It was beyond perfect and while the emotional turmoil of the preceding months had wreaked havoc on my nervous system, looking back on it, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Kris quickly (a little too quickly) mentioned that we should go to dinner; it was getting late and he was hungry, but I wanted to call my mom. “We’ll call her as soon as we’re done,” he said. And of course, I was too blinded by the brand new (totally stunning) rock on my finger to do anything other than blindly follow him anywhere he wanted to take me.
So we hopped in the car and headed to The Mark.
On arrival, the bartender pointed us toward the back of the restaurant and Kris led me through the maze of empty tables with precision and purpose. When we rounded the corner, I was shocked to see a room full of faces I knew. Kris’s family had gathered for a celebratory dinner! It was so sweet and my heart was so full. I found myself relishing the moment and as overcome with the thought that my little world had collided so splendidly with the worlds of these amazing humans.
And then it happened. As I scanned the room further, my eyes finally landed on my parents.
Yes, the ones who live in San Diego. The ones we had said goodbye to three days earlier before boarding our flight for Christmas break part two: Olympia edition.
I broke into tears *sobs* again. To make for the perfect evening, Kris had managed to pull my dad aside during the Christmas holiday in San Diego and ask if my parents could fly up the night of the proposal. My mom was brought into the scheme as soon as Kris and I left town for Olympia and even though it was last minute, they dropped everything to be there for the big moment. It was truly the most magical moment and my heart bursts to this day thinking about the time and attention to detail that my amazing husband put into making it perfect for me.
Flash forward to three years later.
We’re bundled up on the couch, experiencing an uncharacteristically cold December weekend in Los Angeles and eagerly anticipating the birth of our first child. We opted to stay close to our OBs and hospital this holiday, for obvious reasons. We miss the Washington family dearly and we miss doing our walk around the lake. But feeling cozy under the handmade blanket given to us by my sister-in-law for our wedding, I have loved recounting every minute of this very special day.
And when the time comes, I can’t wait to return to this important place in our family’s history and tell Baby O all about the time Dad asked Mom to spend the rest of their lives together.
Footnote: if you’re in the Western Washington state area, give Heidi Marshall Photography a ring. She has an awesome eye and perfectly captured our engagement walk nearly 8 months later (luckily, when it wasn’t raining).
Ashley Okimoto 