I got married early, I was 16 going on 17. the boy was from down the street, a friend of the family. We got married because it was the thing to do, before he went to college.

I did not lose my virginity until I was 20. He didn't want to hurt me. He had girlfriends instead. On the day he decided that he had to go ahead with me, he fumed around and kept telling me why I wanted that done to me. How could I want that done to me.

He treated me like I was some rare statue, when he made love to me he always wanted it to be perfect. When it was time for me to conceive, we went around and around about it, no matter how much I told him it was OK, he was worried as to what I was going to have to go through. I went through it without any problems, not once but twice.

I never really understood why my husband had this hesitation about having sex with me, he did, but it was always with the greatest of care.

Sometimes I think about how we grew up, he was one of two boys, and I was one of six kids, boys and girls. We weren't fragile, far from it. Except to him.

I lost him a year ago.