Twenty Years and I Haven't Killed Him...Yet

Yesterday was my 20th wedding anniversary. We got married on a Wednesday evening at church service. No one was supposed to know, but somehow between Monday's blood test, and Tuesday at the courthouse getting the license, everyone found out and showed up.  It was not a big wedding at all and had zero planning. I was eight months pregnant, BTW. We tried to tell ourselves and everyone else that we did not get married because of the baby, but looking back it, we know better.  However, he was 20, I was 18, and let's face it, there is NO SUCH animal as true love at those ages. It took a long time for us to grow up. We almost called it quits several times early on.  Between being so young, taking on grownup responsibilities so soon, and Army life, we just screwed a lot of things up. Honestly, I don't think true, strong love happened for us till about 16 years or so into this marriage. People are retarded, and we do not bond the precious, perfect way that animals do, such as swans, eagles, RABBITS.  We have to fall on our faces and our asses a few times before we get it.
SO...two wonderful boys, several miscarriages, thinner, fatter, sicker, healthier, sad, happy, murderous and joyful, a couple of dogs, a few cats, three rabbits and one spoiled rotten chihuahua later, we have  gotten to the point where we like each other's in-laws, finish each other's sentences, know exactly how the other one feels and thinks, and I always know what he wants for dinner, even if I don't make it. It is a little creepy.
I have called him ten thousand foul names in 20+ years, but you know, he has never called me a bitch. Not once.

Sweet Lord, were we really this young? He is 21 and I am 19 here.