Thursday, September 4, 2008


I sometimes feel guilty, selfish, for my husband staying with me through this. I feel selfish for ruining his dreams with my infertility. I'm broken, he's not. I felt that way again tonight. "He deserves better than me," I reason in my mind. "He shouldn't have to give up on his dreams too." I haven't felt this way since my diagnosis.

But who's giving up? Not him. When I want to give up, he lends me his strength and optimism. All I give him is a dirty house, my league of animals, my genetically inherited depression, and my medical bills. I really don't see why he stays, but he does. He tells me, "It's okay. We keep trying." And I cry and sob out, "It's never going to work." He replies, "It will, and if it doesn't, we adopt. It's going to be okay."

Sometimes I fantasize about just getting in the car and driving away. Driving far away from all these obligations, these failed dreams, lost hopes, away from myself. I dream about leaving and going somewhere to live a long lonely life where I won't ruin anyone else's life ever again. I will be alone, and whole, and I will cry, but be happy. I fantasize that he will be sad, but then move on. He'll find some fertile woman, have those two darling girls that he had wanted, that we had wanted together. I fantasize that I will be happy for him, from far away, where my sadness can't reach him anymore. And then I snap my eyes up, and awake from the fantasy.

Even when we were both just dating I remember talking to him about what we wanted in the future. A family of our own, that was each of our answers. We both wanted 2 children, hopefully girls, and we wanted to be happy and complete in this. Everything we've ever done has been for that one day family. I went to college, he quit college and got a good paying IT job. We've been working towards owning a home, getting ahead. All of this was for our future children, everything. And then it all came crashing down in November.

My dream, crashing down. And his too.

I know I am not being selfish, this is a partnership after all.
At our wedding the ceremony was a Cherokee Blanket ceremony, and in the ceremony it said we were agreeing to no longer walk this earth as two separate souls, but as one. Bound in the eyes of the Great Spirit.

When we found out I was infertile I begged and pleaded with him for weeks to leave me. He wouldn't. He said he loved me, he needed me. I didn't want to hear that, I didn't want to ruin his future to. It's not fair of me to ask him to stay, and so I don't. I'm glad he stayed, but I still feel guilty. And sometimes I am not so glad he stayed, because I think he's be better off without me. It's very weighty, knowing that someone else other than you might have to give up their dreams because of you. It's not fair, and sometimes I feel like because of it I am carrying around this major burden. It's my job to make both of our dreams come true. It's up to me. It's my fault if we don't, my fault if he regrets it.

It really is a heavy burden sometimes I think. Or maybe it only is because of how I am looking at it. My perspective has often enough been a little skewed.


Kristin said...

{{{Hugs}}}...I remember after we lost our Eva. After the last sad, still ultrasound, I remember sobbing and telling my husband I was so sorry I had failed. Logically, I knew it wasn't my fault. But, I still felt that way.

It sounds like you have a good man and I hope your dreams can come true one day.

Shelby said...

This post is so full of raw emotion. I feel for you and can understand how badly you must feel. But like it was said in your ceremony, you are no longer separate. You have a great guy who understands this--who understands that you both are facing infertility together, regardless of where the medical issues originate. Our diagnosis is male factor, but it is just as much my IF as it is his and I don't love him less for it. I would go to the ends of the earth for him and that's what we're doing. Every couple does, whether with IF or something else, but hopefully, it can make you stronger as a couple in the end. And one day, you may have to bend over backwards for him and you'll do it in a heartbeat.

Dora said...

It's not your fault. REALLY. It's not your fault. It's very normal to feel this way. I just got off the phone with my RE, and she kept saying this to me. I was just expressing my frustrations, but it's so common for women to blame themselves that she kept telling me that it wasn't my fault, that I was doing everything right. This is so hard, but we just stumble forward the best we can.

Hang on to each other during this. Don't push him away from a sense of guilt. That would be punishing both of you for something that isn't anyone's fault.