Even though I knew him for two years beforehand, I only started dating my husband three weeks before I moved three thousand miles away from him. With my car packed, in the parking lot of his building, I asked him to move with me. Not exactly the most rational thing I've ever done, but I digress.
He ended up moving in with me a couple of months later. He struggled to find work in a college town where I was in grad school. We struggled to get to know each other and learn to live together all at once. More than once, I felt like it was all too much, too soon and utterly out of my control.
In those early days, we set some bad patterns of codependency, among other things. More than once, those problems have nearly driven us apart. It's only in the past several months that we've really worked through all of that, and honestly, in the last few weeks that I can honestly say things are better than they've ever been.
I want that same dream of a warm and loving poly family as you do. I want so much that I've made myself understand adding anything or anyone to our lives and our loves must be done slowly, because while our relationship makes a cute and romantic story with a happy ending, I wonder how many tears could have been saved if we had gone about it smarter.