Dont let the B£$tard get you down!!

Lets not beat around the bush, infertility sucks! 

It has tested me to my limits I have had to dig deeper than I knew was possible or ever thought would be necessary in my life.

Ten years in our diagnosis remains that of "unexplained infertility"  - what is that, really!? Is there anything truly unexplained in today’s modern scientific age?  I sometimes think the Dr’s just want to stuff DW full of meds rather than target a specific problem, OR…  we are special, I prefer the latter!

Today, and it changes every day, my frustration is that I have no choice in the matter, I didn't choose this.  It just happened, to us. 

No matter what we do we don't seem to be able to twist anyone's arm to convince “them” to help us create our family.  In fact we don't even know whose metaphorical arm to twist, her womb or my sperm? None of it has worked, our bodies don't want to play ball, they just won’t.

But here's the snag, "they just won't”… YET.  At any moment this could all be over, 10 years of anxiety, fear, rage, helplessness, fad diets and supplements all over.

I remember saying to our infertility counsellor, “at some point we have to envisage a life without children, embrace the difference and live that life”.  What if that time is NOW?  How do you know when to stop?  What if, when you stop and are enjoying the difference, a pregnancy occurs?

 
What I do know is that infertility will try to wrestle the very "you" from you, the challenge is to usurp it – to stand strong, lean hard on that person next to you, surmount the mountain and enjoy the view from atop that mountain peak until the next bout begins and another mountain is to be climbed. 

To express that feeling of being "Pushed hard" I have written a little something, I hope you enjoy it...

 Pushed Hard

 

Pushed hard, at full tilt as close to the wind as I am made to go. This young vessels captain is younger still than it, out of depth but somehow still afloat.

 

Survival becomes the end, joy and inspiration cast overboard shed in order to endure.  Their absence makes our passage no less haunting as the merciless seasons push harder seeking out my doubt and waning courage.

But I must not falter or ease off there is too much here at stake and glancing to the stars at night I am reminded still not of joy, but promise. A future promise which if this is to be survived will be all the more fitting a prize.

 

(Written on reading Psalm 118, Message Bible)

Do Men Feel ANYTHING...!!???

The ugly truth bit…

My dad never ever remembers his dreams so you can imagine our delight when, sat together one evening last week, my dad confessed to having had a dream the other night.  It was a momentous occasion and one for us all to practice our pop psych learned in the pages of “Psychologies” magazine, Derren Brown etc. By the end of the evening Dad had been diagnosed with pretty much every mental affliction known to man!

Of course we all went ‘round the table asking what each other’s last dream was. The truth is I lied because mine was downright depressing.  My last dream (that I remember) about 5 days ago featured my older brother asking how I was coping “you know… with the erm… the infertility side of things”.  In my dream I wasn’t able to reply I just started to cry.  In real life now the instant I woke up I started to cry for real.  Not a great start to the day, and certainly not the kind of comical dream the family was looking to hear!

The light relief bit…

There is a point to this woeful  tale of pity!  Bear with me and read on!!

I can tell you about some things I like:

I like to surf, I used to love Rugby especially tackling until it screwed up my shoulder, I love beer my favourite is “Butcombe Blonde” (and not just because it contains the words But and Blonde). I like being my own boss, I really like to play tennis Singles not Doubles. I like to watch the tv lying on the floor.  I love peanut butter. My favourite coffee is an Americano, hot milk and a bit of sugar.

You get the idea, I know what I like and it mostly evolves around food and sport.  I know equal ops would insist I say that a love of food and sport is not exclusive to men but stereotypically it just is! I am therefore a stereotypical male!

The “I’m about to make my point” bit…

When I told my DW about my dream in the quiet and privacy of our own home, three days later she hugged me tight and said “I’m so sorry.  Sometimes when you plough on and take care of me so well it’s easy to forget how you feel”.

Ask a man what he likes to do/eat/play etc and he can tell you straight away.  I am not saying it is right or helpful (I have learned it is not) but ask a guy how he is feeling about his ‘n’ years long infertility and he probably won’t say much there and then.  But he does feel SOMETHING and maybe, three, four, five days (weeks even!) he might finally talk about it.

To my DW and on behalf of fellow menkind sorry for putting our other halves through this emotional constipation. If it helps those other halves out there living with a caveman I don’t think WE always know  even know we are doing it.