The pregnancy went off without a hitch. Mom says I was a freak of nature. Barely any morning sickness, only a little back pain, some fatigue but nothing that really slowed me down. Every morning, I looked in the mirror, turned to the side and saw my belly grow just a little bit bigger. And of course, I ran my fingers through my hair, checking again, for that wily grey strand. It disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared. Most days I tried to convince myself that it was just a trick of the light. My husband loved me and I loved me and I loved him. How could I not?

He was the most attentive pregnancy partner a girl could ask for. Daily foot rubs, midnight runs for cravings, by my side at every Lamaze class. Even built the crib without me having to ask him. I have never loved him more than in the moments late at night, when he'd bring his face inches from my belly to tell our baby bedtime stories so they would recognize his voice.

In the end, I gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby girl. We named her Anne, after his favorite aunt.

She was the light of our lives and like moths we centered everything around her. Schedules, sleep, food, everything. For the next few years, it was like we were on autopilot. Sleep, work, Anne. That's all that existed. Sleep, work, Anne.

I finally finished my residency and got hired by a nearby, sleepy hospital. I was grateful for the light workload but just when things eased up for me, the revved up for my husband. His father suffered a heart attack. He lived, thank god, but took a much-needed step back from work leaving the business in my husband's hand. He worked overtime almost daily. 55 hour weeks when things were good.

I tried not to be resentful. He'd wanted the business for a long time. He deserved to put his dreams first for a while, just like I had. I reminded myself of this every time he stood me up for a lunch date, every time I handled Anne's bedtime and breakfast alone, every time I counted the days since we'd had sex and realized it'd been quite a while. Relationships ebb and flow. That was natural. We still loved each other.

At least that's what I told myself when I was trying to ignore the crow's feet that was popping up around his eyes.

More and more little signs of aging popped back up.

An argument over him leaving dishes in the sink, gave me three gray hairs.

Him having to bail on a loan meeting at the bank to pick up Anne when I was trapped at the ER, resulted in liver spots on the back of his hand.

Our ten-day "discussion" over whether or not I should turn down a chance to be an attending physician at a prestigious hospital two states away, left us both with back aches, dull skin and permanent frown lines.

We've been married 10 years now. And looking in the mirror, I can't lie to myself anymore. My shiny black hair is growing more pepper and salt colored by the day. The crow's feet around my eyes are deepening by the minute. When I brushed my teeth I noticed that my gums are starting to recede, I wouldn't be surprised if I lost a tooth soon.

I look twice as old as I should be... and I am not the only one.

I walk into the kitchen and find my husband reading the newspaper. His hair is stark white now and his gut falls over the belt of his pants. He leans forward at he reads, his back hunched over like a man in his 80s, even though he's barely 35 now.

I sit across from him with tears in my eyes. "I don't think this is working anymore."

He sadly nods, in agreement. "I know."