When you’re with someone who is first rate — I mean Grade A, top drawer, Certified Angus, Blue Ribbon winning material you want to see those genes get passed on. Thirteen years ago I fell madly, deeply in love with the Magnum Opus of men.
While we had already decided we’d spend the rest of our lives together — with or without the paperwork — Mr. PJ was swept up in the possibilities of a new century and popped the question December 31, 1999. I wanted to make an honest man of him and said, “yes.” We chose our wedding date: 2/20/2000 because we liked the number combination and we figured it would be easy to remember when we were old and feeble-minded. I remember thinking what a great love story this would be to share with our children: Daddy in his tux nervously wondering if Mom will take his (complicated, hard-to-spell and pronounce) name and be his wife. My anniversary brings back memories of the hopeful expectations we once had about our children. They would be wonderful mutts — descendants of Greeks, Scots, Irish, Polish and other bits that likely mixed up our gene pool.
We eloped to Hawaii. Our honeymoon started the minute we arrived on the island of Maui. No guest lists to fret over, no rehearsal dinners, no worries about flowers, bands or tussles among the relatives. The only curiosity was being, well, stalked by Pierce Brosnan. We could not shake that guy to save our lives. Our first afternoon by the pool at the Kea Lani he sat a few chairs away. As I casually reached for my Mai Tai, I turned to my man and whispered, “I don’t want to alarm you but it appears 007 is casing the joint.” The next day when we went down to the spa for our massages, there he was robed in the waiting area clearly anticipating our arrival. That night while we looked to catch some romantic time on the beach at sunset he showed up with his squeeze. Then they followed us to dinner sitting not far away in the dining room. Clearly he had to work on his unobtrusive shadowing skills. We came this close to telling 007, “look we appreciate why you want to trace our every move, but really, we’re on our honeymoon…”
But I digress. I’ve been reading blog posts lately that sing the praises of the men in our lives. It’s a recurring theme and it made me realize that the pain of infertility gets magnified when there’s a great love story, a wonderful partner involved. It’s one thing to want your own experience as a mother, it’s another still when you know what a great pater familias your mate would be.
I knew right after I met my guy that I wanted nothing more than to make babies with him. I looked forward to conceiving and carrying his son or daughter, or both. (His father was a fraternal twin after all.) He is without a doubt the smartest, delightfully witty, playful, caring and patient man on earth. He’s proven to me time and time that he is indeed the Magnum Opus of men. I just wish I could have seen his traits live on, to have seen him as the doting dad, ’cause I know he would have aced that role, too.
Looking for the silver lining in all of this, Mr. PJ still lights up my world. What characteristics do you most treasure in your mate?