Despite the low resolution on our photos, I was married in 2002 not 1902

A lot has been written about the dire prognosis for marriages when a child is diagnosed with autism. One stat (which I'm convinced is totally made up) claims that 80 PERCENT of marriages of couples with kids on the spectrum end in divorce.

Now don't get me wrong. I can understand why these kinds of statistics might be believable – particularly to the people IN these marriages. There have been plenty of afternoons when I've seriously considered going AWOL for a few years. I'm not proud of it, but I've had those fleeting thoughts.

I'm surprised there isn't a statistic about how many of these marriages end in the homicide of one or the other partner, because let me tell you, when you've spent the afternoon with a child screaming about his fear of kangaroos any time you try to take him to the bathroom, by the time your spouse gets home, you're in the mood to take VERY. LITTLE. CRAP.

Now. Having said all that, I have to go all gooey and tell you how lucky I am. Seriously. I hit the jackpot. Eight years ago today, I married a man whose finest qualities I had yet to discover.

I loved him from the beginning because he could spell. We met on one of those lame Internet dating sites that we both joined as kind of a joke, bringing incredibly low expectations to the enterprise – expectations that, for me, would lowered as I encountered the likes of “Tedy BARE Needz Sum LURVE!!” and “Wanna join my Hairum??” (I'm not sure, but I think that's like the Steak-ums of harems.)

Our new family in front of the harbor in Chania

Within 8 months of meeting, Dave and I were engaged and talking wedding plans. I had always had this fantasy about getting married outdoors in Greece, and here's the first of David's really stellar qualities that I would uncover AFTER falling in love with him: He shrugs and goes along with pretty much any hair-brained scheme I plot.

With almost no money, one driver's license between us (mine), and knowing only the Greek alphabet (I learned 20 years ago as a Delta Zeta pledge), we set off one August day from England, where we were living at the time, on a weekend-long fact-finding mission to Crete.

First fact we found: Don't go to Crete in August. It's about a million degrees and there are more mosquitoes than tourists – which is saying something. Month of wedding set: November.

Second fact we found: Chania, a beautiful city on the western end of Crete, used to be a Venetian port and has incredible old architecture. Location of wedding: Casa Delfino, a Venetian palace converted into a hotel.

We gathered family and friends around us one breezy November night in 2002, just inside that gorgeous courtyard, just after a warm rain. Dave's best friend, Steve Eyre, a lay minister, performed the ceremony. His daughter, Imogen, our 3-year-old goddaughter, danced around us and loudly announced to everyone, “This isn't a wedding!” Then we shared a week of good food and incredible sight-seeing with our nearest and dearest before returning to England as Mr. and Mrs. Broadfoot.

When you meet someone, when you plan a wedding with them and first fantasize about a life together, you don't evaluate the potential of your relationship by imagining every hard thing that could ever happen. It's human nature. You fantasize about setting up house together and traveling the world together maybe and possibly having laughing, beautiful babies together.

We have had all that. And so much more.

Over the past eight years, I have been reminded at every turn what an amazing man I married. He never minded changing a diaper or getting up in the night to handle a feeding while I slept. He rarely loses his patience and genuinely loves being a dad.

Even more incredibly, his faith in our son's potential never wavered for a moment, even when we got the news about autism, even as we saw certain fantasies evaporate before our eyes. He always reminds me of the beauty in the real children we have. He has never said “There's nothing wrong with Billy” but he has always been able to see the funny side, the miraculous side, the beautiful side of just about every challenging situation.

I didn't choose Dave because of his amazing ability to parent a special needs child. I didn't evaluate the risks to our relationship if we happened to hit a really big hurdle, but deep down, I knew he could handle it. I knew and know we both can.

The only statistic that matters to me: I'm 100 percent certain I will love him for the rest of my life.

Happy anniversary, Mr. B.