They say when life throws you lemons, make lemonade. I wasn’t entirely sure how that applied to infertility, which often seemed like an empty, thankless, process in which there weren’t even any lemons to work with.
The ironic thing was that everything else in our life had been going perfectly the last few months. The hospital system finally came around, hiring me for a permanent internist position in their new walk-in clinic just outside of the city. The hours were consistent, 7AM to 5PM, allowing me more time to spend with Bridget and Brendan than ever before.
Even though Bridget and I had vowed not to let the baby thing stress us out, with each month that passed, it seemed to be something we wanted more and more. Bridget’s thirty-fifth birthday would be here before we knew it. And it became clear that leaving it up to “fate” wasn’t working. If we seriously wanted a baby, we were going to need help.
We opted to see a fertility doctor who checked my sperm count only to determine it was abnormally high. While this was good news in a sense, it only put more pressure on Bridget. And I hated that. We tried medications first, and that led to daily injections. I’m not going to lie—the shots were really tough to watch. But we knew it was likely the only way it was going to happen, and the doctor had said waiting too much longer would only further decrease our chances.
I’d wanted to propose to Bridget for some time, but all of our mental energy had been expended while trying to conceive. Planning for a grand proposal kept falling by the wayside. Even though we’d discussed the fact that neither one of us felt the piece of paper was necessary to define our commitment, it was still something I wanted.
Never had that rung more true than on a certain night when Bridget was standing across from me in the bathroom. She was administering a subcutaneous injection into her abdomen for what felt like the umpteenth time. It just hit me how much she was willing to go through for me. I couldn’t say that anyone had ever showed me so much love through actions in my entire life. Suddenly, I realized I couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to marry her—yesterday. Sure, we didn’t need the piece of paper to define our relationship, but I wanted it.
She was disposing of the syringe in a glass jar when I came up behind her and planted a kiss on her neck.
“What’s that for?”
“I love you,” I simply said. “I’ll go tuck Brendan in. You go relax. Pick out what you want to watch tonight.”
Our adult time after Brendan went to bed was always my favorite time of the night after a long day. There was nothing like cozying up to my luv as she fell asleep in my arms. Bridget always nodded off before whatever we were watching was over. That was why lately we opted for sex before turning on the telly. Tonight, though, I could tell she was too exhausted for sex, as much I wanted it.
Brendan was playing on his tablet when I entered his room.
“Hey, buddy. Time to shut down the game and brush your teeth. After you come back from the bathroom, I want to talk to you about something, okay?”
When Brendan left for the loo, I took the opportunity to do something I hadn’t done in a while—talk to Ben.
Walking over to the bureau, I lifted the framed photo.
“I don’t have a lot of time. So, here it is. You know I’m mad at you for what you did to her and in many ways, I’ll never forgive you for it. But the fact remains that in your death, I received so much. I owe you for this life in a strange way. You may have been a shitty husband, but from what I hear, you were a good father. You can rest in peace knowing that I’ll take good care of your son, not as a friend but as the dad he deserves. And for what it’s worth, I’ll continue taking real good care of your wife. Take that however you may.”
When I could hear Brendan’s footsteps approaching, I put the photo back in its rightful spot.
“Come on,” I said. “I’ll tuck you in and we’ll talk.”
After he climbed into bed, I sat on the edge of his mattress.
“You know how your mum and I talked to you about she and I sharing a bedroom now and all of that...”
“Yeah. You said her bed was more comfortable than the one in the other room.”
“Right. That’s part of it. But it’s more about being more comfortable with her near me at night, sort of like how you like to sleep with your stuffed rabbit, Miffy.”
He seemed to understand. “Yeah.”
“Anyway…I want to ask you something. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to answer me if you’re not sure.”
“Okay.”
“Normally, a guy asks this question to a woman’s father, but since your granddad is not around, and since I value your opinion more than anyone’s, I’d like to ask you if it would be okay with you if I asked your mum to marry me.”
He straightened up against the headboard to better look at me. “That would make us a real family?”
“Well, I feel like we already are. Don’t you?”
“Yeah. But sometimes I feel like it’s bad to think that.”
“Because of your father?”
“I don’t want him to be sad that I love you.”
His words caused me to close my eyes. Not only had he never said he loved me before, but the other part was hard to hear.
“I love you, too, buddy. I love you exactly how a father loves a son. And I don’t think your father in Heaven is sad. I think he’s happy that I’m here to look out for you. I know I would feel the same if I were him.”
“I want you to marry my mom.”
“Yeah? I have your permission?”
The slightly timid-looking grin on his face was adorable. “Yeah.”
“Thank you for your blessing. I didn’t want to ask her without it.”
“When are you gonna ask her? Can we have a party?”
“Of course. But I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll let you know before I do. Deal?”
“Deal.” He high-fived me and asked, “What would that make you to me if you married my mom?”
“I’d be your stepdad, technically. But to me, that’s no different than a father.”
“What would I call you?”
“You could call me whatever you want…as long as it’s not a curse word.” I chuckled. “You could still call me Simon, or you could call me Dad if you want. Or maybe you reserve that term for your father, Ben, and call me something like…Pop. It’s what I call my dad from time to time. Because really, Brendan, I hope you look at me like an additional dad not a replacement. I could never replace your father.”
He took a few moments to ponder my suggestion then said, “Pop. I like that. Pop for my father here and Dad for my daddy in Heaven.”
Rustling his hair, I smiled. “I think that’s brilliant, son.”