This week M3 has been mulling over writing opportunities. I think I was restricting to specific topics (i.e., writing a blog, or about Mo’, or about ‘Ox, and sometimes Hubs). And to be quite honest, I was floundering. Poorly. However, I think it is about time M3 has begun to broadening her canvas! Boyashocka! And Buckle-Up!
I think it was 10 years ago, my husband and I met. I am horrible at anniversaries, names, and other important dates. (Psst… it is no coincidence that I have my children’s initials and DOBs and Hub’s initials and anniversary tattooed on my shoulder). Ok… back to 10 years or go…I was getting out of a long relationship. He was getting out of a long relationship. We were both not looking for added “complications”. Divorce sucks… no ways around it.
I was working for a great University in Philadelphia. He was an up and coming attorney in PA. And we thought we were some hot flippin’ shots! In our thirties, our prime, single, and not attached. Look out world. So we did what all other single, big-shots do in the city who have money and some brains, we met up at a bar to play Quizzo. OK. We were a lil’ bit of some dorks. Our team consisted of, get this, an attorney (hubs), an MD, an engineer, an electronic librarian (me), an accountant, and an uber intelligent minx from Ireland who can do the NYTimes Crossword puzzle 27 sheets to the wind in record time, perfectly. Our team was stacked. I was a new invitee to the intellectual mob. I walked in and Hubs fell in love immediately [jazz hands and bells dinging]. I was completely oblivious as I was intimidated by his intelligence and demeanor. How quickly that threat dissipated!
We dated for a year and a half and then decided to move in with each other. I was still hurting over the passing of my (step-) father and really wanted to have a child in his name. Hubs proposed one week into moving in with each other, after carrying in the groceries. On one knee, while I shoveled the produce into the crisper, “Will you marry me?” I turned around and seriously shrieked. I told him to get up. Asked him if he was serious, took the ring, while replying with a soft “No.” He was crushed! I told him I would wear his ring, but “why don’t we live like Europeans, have babies and forget the marriage stuff”. Shell shocked, he agreed.
Several weeks later, and on the 14th day since my last menstruation, Hubs and I went out to eat dinner with his parents. It was a fantastic dinner. His parents gave us an antique dry-sink, with overt hints at using it as a changing table for a baby. We left sort of giddy, drove back to the city, stopped at our local watering hole, and Hubs said. “Why don’t we try for a baby tonight?” I giggled, gobbled my drink, and rushed out the door of the joint in 2 seconds flat. After 15 minutes of joy, I started bawling. In my mind, I was preggers waiting for my water to break. I could not stop thinking of my father and his last want in life was to see a grand-daughter before he passed. Unfortunately, that sheer joy was quashed by Hubs being a smidge sated & exhausted, and a whole lot more freaked out at my tears and mumbled “Why don’t we wait a while before we try again?”
Three months later, I was three months preggers. Once again carrying in the groceries and I turned around and Hubs had a candy Ring-Pop, on one knee, and he asked me to marry him. The second proposal had some tenacity and humor, but I again declined, kissed him on the forehead, and asked him to go get me some ice cream. He did.
Four months later, and after many more pints of ice cream and 70-something-pounds, I took a look at myself in the mirror and saw a woman who was HA-HUGE, preggers, and not married. I had a sudden about-face. “What if my butt doesn’t return to my size 4 after this kid comes out? I have to seal this deal! STAT!” I additionally had probably the most grown-up thought of my life “We are committing to raise a child together and be parents for the rest of our lives, together, and I am a scaredy-cat who can’t commit to loving someone, forever?” At that right moment, it all made sense. I turned to Hubs and asked him to marry me. He happily said “Yes”. I think he may have even shrieked that time.
Two weeks later we stood on Hub’s BFFs balcony on New Year’s Eve and vowed our love for each other. I asked Hub’s BFF to officiate, so after a swift Click-Here-To-Be Ordained induction into the world of clergy; his best friend wed us in front of 20 or so people. Now, no family was there. Just Friends. And those friends, who were invited to BFF’s house, had no idea a wedding was to take place just after midnight. They were all excited. The fireworks exploded in the Philadelphia sky, and when they silenced BFF officiated one of the greatest nights of my life.
After the ceremony was over, I said my good-byes, kissed Hubs on the forehead, announced to the group that I was heading home to go to bed, and ordered Hubs to be home before dawn to take me to iHop for Strawberry pancakes in the morning. To which he accepted. I ate gloriously that morning!
Three months after that day, I gave birth to my lovely Mo’. I desperately had thought through the long pregnancy that my father’s spirit would live on only in a boy. Initially, I was stupidly, upset when informed my beautiful gift, growing inside of me, was a girl. Hubs actually told me to “Knock it off!” The day she was born, it was like a beacon of light and clarity. She… was his dying wish. She was his gift to me. I was meant to meet Hubs. I was meant to conceive that night on the first try. I was meant to share my life, even against my stubborn judgment, with this Man who intimidated me with his intellectual prowess. Hubs is my biological soul-mate. We were meant to be, and Mo’ was our creation. Amazing.
Now. It hasn’t been all peaches and cream. We’ve conquered many things together: job losses, depression, money issues, going back to University, student loans, changing careers, having a 2nd child, getting a puppy, mourning deaths, and other catastrophic life events in 7 short, short years. But we are still together. More knowledgeable of the other. We have the other to look to when things have been troubling. We supported each other, even when it was difficult to even smile at that person.
As we ease into our forties, completely different than we were when we were 30 and big-hot-stankin-shots. We’ve been humbled by the unique brain-stumping that happens when being a parent. We have bonded over the seriousness and complexity of being responsible for another human being (and now two). It is amazing to be able to share this with another human being. To have a partner. Life is difficult. Life is glorious. Life is continuous. And to meander through life without a partner that is recognized, supported, and strengthened by equality seems so unfulfilling. Why would I try to prevent any other human being from having that gift? I wouldn’t. It is cruel. It is heartless. It is painful to imagine the effects that has on another human being.
In light of the recent poor voting response in North Carolina this week, and some stinky commentaroos on my Friend’s, People I Want To Punch In The Throat’s Blog/FB page revolving around keeping out of her uterus and more importantly reproductive rights’ restrictions in KS (and the US at large), tonight I’m going to write about the Hubs. And our story. When we decided to have babies and then get married. Yes, you read that correctly, babies and then married. I am writing tonight because Hubs and I get a huge, huge chuckle out of our story, and hope that many others’ (Male/Male, Female/Female, Male/Female) union and fables of procreation are just as humorous, memorable, and fucking special! Because we all deserve an equal right to that happiness!