pondering life

Sometimes, late at night, I think about my life. I think about where I am, how I got here, if I'm happy, if I'm where I want to be...
These thoughts are fueled by movies, music, or the general happenings of the day. It just depends on what strikes me.
Tonight, (as this sweet little being dances within my abdomen,) my thoughts are fueled by a movie. (500) Days of Summer. (And the killer soundtrack.)

I kind of feel like Cori and I are Summer and Tom. Except the whole part where...(I don't want to spoil the movie for anyone, but if you've seen it, then you can see how Cori and I are probably not so much like them.)
Allow me to explain:

I wasn't looking for a relationship. I was dreaming and planning a big life. One that started as a New York nanny, one that would eventually find me in a New York or California art school. I wasn't exactly in the best place, mentally and emotionally, as I planned this, but I didn't think it would stop me.
I had known Cori for a while, and there was always chemistry and compatibility, from the very beginning. But when he entered my life more seriously I wasn't interested. I liked him. I knew he liked me. But I was trying to go somewhere far from where I was, and I wasn't looking for the baggage of a boy back home. He knew this. He respected it, and he set out to be the only thing I was asking for: a friend.
Then came the set backs. I was interviewing with families over the phone, but nobody seemed interested in me. I gave up when the calls stopped coming. Nannying was not to be. (Secretly, I was relieved. I don't think I was ever fully comfortable with the idea of tending the children of some complete strangers. And the families I spoke with were probably able to sense this.)
No longer planning to leave, Cori made his move. It started with the necklace and a letter. Simple, 3 small diamonds on a plain strand and the note, he'd planned to give me these things the day I eventually left for New York. It was a sweet, although very unnerving, gesture. A few days (nights, really) later he kissed me.
I wanted it, but I was still taken aback by it, and didn't really kiss back. I was nervous and jumpy (like a little mouse.) A week later, at the stroke of midnight on New Year's, we kissed. I kissed back. This is the day I claim in my head as the day we became "something official." (4 years ago! Wild.)
I still had these plans, but they became somewhat obscured by Cori and his new constant place in my life. And things went quickly from there.
He asked me to marry him, a surprise to the both of us, on March 25th. We had taken a day trip to Moab in search of campgrounds, and instead had this really interesting, enlightening sort of discussion. The proposal followed the discussion. It felt right, but at the same time it felt strange when I said "yes."
Over the next few weeks we became more wrapped up in each other, keeping our engagement secret for a time, not wanting to be judged by others for moving "too quickly." On May 14th, Mother's Day, Cori slipped a ring on my finger as we sat in his car in front of his mother's house.
Then we went in and made our announcement.
Silently I felt uneasy, unsure. I still wanted to go to art school.
I picked a day, August 25th. (It has a few "meanings" 8:25, of 2nd Nephi, is my favorite scripture because it sounds pretty. My birthday is in April, his in December: 4+8=12. My birthday is the 8th, his the 17th: 8+17=25.) And we planned. We got our engagement pictures done by a friend, (this same friend was also our Reverend.) We made our invitations by hand. Simple, but lovely.
As the day approached my unease grew, but I never confided this to anyone. I figured it to be the standard "cold feet" that everyone talks about. I reasoned with myself. Everything that had happened seemed to be pushing us to this point. There was something about our conversation in Moab, something about the way our lives met at a time when both of us seemed to need each other for our different reasons. It seemed to sure to have been planned. I don't want to say it was all coincidence, because I don't think it was like that. But it didn't seem like we'd come to this point fully on our own. We felt led.
Still, I wondered if getting married was right.
Of course, I did go through with it. Nerves, doubts and all. I don't say it like that to sound like I wasn't happy. I was. I was thrilled, drunk on love, all that good stuff. I was a great big jumble of happy and nervous. I was both sure and unsure.

But after watching (500) Days, I'm wondering. Wondering what things might have ended up like had I let the nerves take over. Would we have stayed together? Would we have gotten married farther down the road? Would we have been finished if I'd called off the wedding?
I'm wondering if we had split, would we have moved on, and tried to follow our dreams? Would I have made it to art school? Might I have married someone else? Would my life be more where I figured it would be at this point, as opposed to what it is? Would Cori have followed his dreams? Could the crushing blow of my breaking things off have sent him off to focus on himself?
Would my life be glamorous?

I am glad that I went through with the wedding. As much as I am surprised, daily, by where I have ended up in life, I am pleased. I am happy. I have found incredible joy in motherhood. And, though we have our problems, I am in love with Cori more than ever.
As I wonder how things might have been I consider what I know about myself. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't think I would have made it to art school.
The plans I had for myself were wonderful, and it would have been amazing to fulfill them. But I don't think I had enough drive or motivation. I get nervous when I have to do things alone. For as long as I could, I convinced my mom to take care of grown up things for me. I never would have lasted if I had moved myself so far from my family.
So, even though I'm in a different place than I hoped, and even though I felt, at times, that I'd trapped myself, with no way out, I'm happy. I wouldn't trade my life for anything. As weird as it is to think "I'm a mom," I wouldn't want it any other way.
(And if this seems back and forth-y, I'm sorry. I really tried to make sense. And if it seems like I post some version of our love story too often, I'm sorry. I just keep thinking of new things I want to say, new things I want to share. I don't mean to be so repetitive. It just happens. And I'm not really sorry, because this is my blog, and I can write about whatever I want.)