Just Keep Swimming A wife trying to keep a positive outlook on male-factor infertility

I have three sisters.  All three were raised by my mother, while I was raised by my Dad.  I had a stable, protected upbringing, while theirs was anything but.  Without going into lengthy details, their lives have turned out very, very different than mine.  I’ve written before about my frustrations that, despite my responsibility and careful planning, I have had trouble starting a family while all three of my sisters had unplanned pregnancies as teenagers with random guys.

Well, today my older sister told me that my baby sister has had two abortions in the last year.  My baby sister is 21 and has a son who is 4, conceived with her boyfriend when she was 16, whom she married at 17 and now doesn’t even speak to, although they are not divorced.  She has no job.  She leaves my nephew with my mother for days at a time without saying when she’ll be back.  My big sister didn’t tell me about the abortions because she knew I was struggling getting pregnant and didn’t want to upset me.  I really appreciate her sensitivity.

Let me just say that I’m pro choice but anti stupidity.  Unfortunately those two things often seem to go hand in hand.  Which really takes away any hope of a cut-and-dry, black-and-white stance on the issue.  But that’s not what this post is about.

After finding out about the two nieces or nephews that I will never have, my older sister then tells me that my baby sister called me “the boring sister.”  “Dory’s idea of a good time is going to a museum,” she reportedly said the other night during a discussion about drinking and clubbing.  Apparently since I don’t live near them, it’s ok to say mean things about me.

Well let me tell you this, sister.  If your idea of fun is dancing on stripper poles, taking shots in your living room and letting men who are NOT your “husband” lean you over a table and spank you, then no thank you.  How do I know these things? Because she posted pictures of them on Facebook.  And guess who was in the background of those pictures? My 4-year old nephew.  If being a responsible parent, having a job, owning a home, owning a car, and having a husband that I actually live with is boring, then I’ll take boring any day.  You don’t have any idea of what responsibility is, since every time you make a mistake, you flush it down the toilet and forget about it.

And besides, museums ARE fun.  You just wouldn’t know because you dropped out of high school and missed that field trip.

Ok, I feel better now.  I just needed to say that.  Thanks for listening.

In my last post, I told you about my attempts to regain optimism in my life.  I had a minor relapse last week.  I’ll share the story with you.

Before I tell you that story, I need to tell you this one.  This is a biggie that I probably should have written about earlier, but I just was too busy and whatever.  To make a long story short, Bobby’s mother went into the ER at 1:30 on Christmas morning.  She had been suffering from abdominal pain and bowl troubles for several weeks and the pain finally got bad enough to send her into the emergency room.  She was admitted and we spent Christmas day with her in the hospital.  After two days of various testing, she was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer.  She has tumors on her colon, liver, and lungs.  Her prognosis is mediocre – they’re going to try chemo and see if they can shrink the tumors enough to operate.

Bobby was angry at first.  His mother is a chronic heavy smoker, and cancer runs in their family.  Her father died of colon cancer around 7 years ago, her sister died of lung cancer about 4 years ago, and Bobby’s younger brother lost a testicle from testicular cancer.  (Apparently the boys got the crappy left overs of the family jewels.)  She’s 58 and has never had a colonoscopy.  So he was angry at his mom for not taking better care of herself and for not getting screenings when she knew she was at risk.  We’ve since moved through the stages of grief and are just working together to provide his mom with what support we can while she goes through treatments.  It’s hard though, since we’re a few hours away, with a baby to get ready for and a house purchase in the works.

So last weekend, we went down to visit her and spend some time there.  It was a pleasant enough experience – I’m pretty sure I’ve written about Bobby’s mother here before, so you know she’s low on my list of favorite people to spend time with.  But this visit actually wasn’t so bad.  Until we were about to leave, that is.  She brought up the picture frame I had bought for her as a Christmas gift – a black frame with the word “Grandchildren” written in block letters across the bottom.  We were talking about something related to Noodle, I don’t remember what, and she suddenly blurts out, “You two are going to have to have more kids after this one, otherwise the frame you bought me will be wrong!”  She laughs, like it was some kind of a funny joke.

I felt all the blood rush to my face and could barely keep my voice from shaking when I replied.  “Well, we don’t know if we’ll be able to have any more children, so let’s just focus on this one for now.  We’re very lucky to have this one baby, and that’s not something we can take for granted.”  So she said, “That’s true.  And I can always just take off the S and put an exclamation point in its place!”  Bobby then jumped in to rescue me in with some conversation-ending chatter, and we left.  When we got in the car, Bobby said, “Are you ok?”  “There isn’t even an S in Grandchildren!!” I said, and the tears came.

You see, I’ve been trying really hard to dam up the thoughts about “next time.”  I don’t need to tell you all because you already know what a difficult journey infertility is, and the thought of doing it a second time is terrifying in a way that I’m not ready to deal with yet.  I don’t believe that Bobby’s mom meant anything malicious by what she said, but she caught me off guard and opened up the patches with which I had sealed those thoughts away.  I had a nice long cry in the car with Bobby, in the driveway of my parents house.  And after sharing all my fears and thoughts with him, I think I’ve sufficiently put everything back in its proper cubby hole, to be feared and worried about later.

I got into a fight with my father later that night.  I was exhausted and emotional and something stupid set me off.  Bobby decided it was time for me to go to bed, and while he was saying goodnight to me, I knew I had overreacted and asked him to apologize for me when he went back outside.  I said, “Am I doing anything wrong?”  He thought for a long moment, and said, “You worry too much.”  He’s told me that a lot before, but this time he said it in such a sincere way that the words really sank in.  He’s right.

But how does a person just simply not worry?

Hi!

Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted.  I pulled back a little from blogging last month.  Partially it’s because I got busy… finally got over the first trimester woes and found myself trying to catch up from three months asleep on the couch.  Mostly I think it’s because I realized that blogging was encouraging me to be negative and whiny.  So I took a break to get back to being myself, to try to find the upbeat, positive, semi-optimistic person that I was before azoospermia crept in and stole part of my life.  I think I’ve done ok so far!

So, here’s what’s been going on the past couple of months.  We’ve nicknamed the baby “the Noodle” for a reason that I can’t explain because it would give away my last name.  Pregnancy is going really well so far, now that the first trimester is over.  I’ve been dealing severe backpain, though.  My left hip rotated out of place and jutted up against my spine, causing intense lightning-strike pains that were debilitating at times.  I’ve been going to physical therapy for adjustments and strengthening, and am almost pain free! Yay!  The belly is getting bigger by the day now… I’m 24 weeks and my tummy measures 39″ around.  I’ve gained about 15lbs so far.

Noodle’s looking pretty good, too! I feel him move a lot now, and Bobby got to feel the little bumps for the first time last weekend.  DID I MENTION HE’S A BOY???  We’ve told every person we know that “we’re not finding out,” but really, we just aren’t telling.  This is mine and Bobby’s little secret.  We figure that the Noodle’s conception was so impersonal and open that we wanted to keep the gender and his name just for ourselves until he’s born.

Perhaps the biggest news of all is that tomorrow, we are putting an offer in on a house!  I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s big and perfect and beautiful.  If we can get the sellers to come down on the price a little bit, it will be an amazing find.  So wish us luck this week as we navigate this particularly nerve-wracking time.  Along the same lines, while we were doing a walkthrough of the house this afternoon, we noticed a garage sale across the street with lots of baby stuff.  I bought a mint-condition pack-n-play, complete with bassinette, changing table, diaper rack, canopy, and vibration/lights/sound maker for… $30!!!  Ah-mazing.  I hope our good-deal mojo carries over to the house, too!

Noodle’s room is starting to come together.  Bobby is slowly working on refinishing furniture, and my dad is spray-painting a hand-me-down crib and dressing table.  We got a glider this weekend on indefinite loan from my stepsister who’s finished having kids, and I’m working on putting together a Dr. Seuss theme for the decor.  We’ve got four months left… there’s so much to do, and we’re finally getting the ball rolling.

I’ve officially decided to stay home next year.  I’ve crunched the numbers and determined that we have enough money saved to make it through a year without my salary, even with the new house.  Since I have tenure, I can take FMLA and my job will be waiting for me when I come back the following school year.

So there you have it – an update, completely free of whining and negative emotions.  I’m finally starting to feel at peace… at peace with how we got our Noodle, with my job and the people who bother me, with the way our lives are turning out.  Ever since Bobby and I got married, we’ve been saving up for our three main goals: owning a home, starting a family, and staying home to raise the baby for one year.  When we first found out about our infertility, I saw our dreams vanish in an instant, and so much of my anger was really resentment that those dreams might be put off or lost forever.  By taking on a 6th period class and earning a 20% raise this year, I have worked myself to the absolute bone, but I’ve saved every penny of that extra money.  Now our dreams are becoming a reality again.  I feel like I’ve earned my life back.

It’s still unfair that we had to go through so much, and will go through it again in the future when it’s time for baby #2.  But I’m finally ready to let myself stop feeling afraid, to stop feeling guilty, and to start feeling like myself again.