The problem is that when a young woman announces her engagement, everyone is quick to roll out the matrimonial red carpet by throwing showers and obsessing over wedding day plans.
Ten years ago I never would have expected my life to turn out quite the way it did.
I quit my job, rented out my house, gave my dog to an old boyfriend, sold my car and moved to France so Lance could reenter the world of professional cycling.
We got married and promptly had three children—a son and then twin daughters—who were breast-fed, toted between countries and utterly adored by their devoted, full-time, stay-at-home mommy.
Soon I was joyfully sporting an engagement ring with a hefty rock the size of my dilated pupil in a darkroom.
I was so enamored with my new stature as part of a couple that I paid more attention to my left hand than to readying my heart for the journey ahead.
At 24 I had bought my first house and was working for a high-tech company in Austin, Texas.