Mr. MVP and I have been living in wedded bliss for nine years and eight months. We were engaged for a short seven months prior to being married and, hold on to your hats, we knew each other for only 30 days before Mr. MVP proposed. I knew I was going to marry Mr. MVP fifteen minutes after I met him.
Our married life has evolved dramatically over the past nine years. We have challenges that most married couples don’t experience because of my medical conditions. I rely on Mr. MVP to do things that, for a normal person, would be pure insanity, but in our house, it’s just Thursday.
Mr. MVP supports Team VP by driving three hours every day to and from his job, where he works incredibly hard so that I am able to stay home and take care of myself. When I need Mr. MVP for procedures, doctors appointments or surgical interventions he is always there, no questions asked. I am a lucky girl.
For all the challenges Mr. MVP and I face, we are also very, extremely lucky. I don’t call Mr. MVP and me, Team VP for no reason at all. Mr. MVP is my Superman. Everyday I am endlessly grateful that Mr. MVP is on my side and that I know, no matter what, he will always stand behind me. It gives me a boost of confidence to know I have such an amazing and intelligent man supporting me.
On bad days, or on days when I have to interact with selfish jerks, I just remind myself that Mr. MVP is my constant champion. That no matter what I have an ally who will laugh at my terrible jokes, let me watch Christmas movies in August and sing silly songs to make me feel better. I remember that the man I married is better than one jillion of those selfish jerks and that my bad day will eventually get better – Mr. MVP is Superman.