What's on my mind?

What's on my mind?

Every morning, I'm reminded - I stumble out of bed and into the shower, and I have to wash carefully to avoid hurting myself due to the lingering effects of November's surgery. I'm reminded when I get out of the shower, because I have to be careful drying off for the same reason. I'm reminded when I look in the mirror before I get dressed, because I see that 4" scar that will never go away. I'm reminded when I get dressed, because I have to pass over a drawer full of underwear that I can't wear anymore, to find one of the pairs I've bought since my surgery that I can wear without pain. I'm reminded when I have breakfast, as I make my 1/2-caff coffee, because I know why that container says 1/2-caff. Or I'm reminded, if I drink regular coffee, that I can't drink as much. I'm reminded when breakfast is over, because it's time to go take my first two vitamin pills for the day. I'm reminded throughout the day, sitting my chair at work, as I try to make sure to keep my legs spread wide to keep the temperature down on my groin as much as I can. I'm reminded every time I visit the men's room, as I see the scar again, or have to be careful adjusting "things" to avoid hurting myself again. I'm reminded whenever I hear a co-worker pop open a can of Coke, because that's a caffeine luxury I can't afford to drink. I come home, and I'm reminded when I boot up my laptop, because I can't use it on my lap anymore. We have dinner, and I'm reminded, because I have to drink water or Sprite or lemonade. After dinner, it's time for two more vitamin pills, and I'm reminded again. I'm reminded every time I get undressed for bed, because it hurts to walk around naked for too long, and there's the scar again. I'm reminded every time I want to have sex with my wife, because I have to keep track of when the last time was. Less than 36 hours? Can't do it, gotta "store up." 36 hours or more? Okay, it's go time. Up to 72 hours? MUST get off, whether on my own or otherwise, or else counts start going down again. Then I'm reminded whenever we finally lay down to sleep, as I have to be conscious of my leg position, to make sure "things" aren't trapped between my thighs and to keep those "things" as cool as possible overnight. Then I wake up the next morning to do it all over again.

One Saturday recently, my wife had an out-of-town volunteer gig that would keep her particularly busy all day, so I offered to go run through the McDonald's drive-thru while she was getting ready, to give her a good breakfast that would help her hold out until dinner. I left the house happy for the opportunity to do something nice for my wife, to get her day started on a good note, but as soon as I pulled into the parking lot at McD's, I found my mind in an unexpected argument. I'd pick up breakfast for myself while there, too, but in the past, I've always ordered my drive-thru breakfasts with a large coffee. Immediately I felt guilty if I should do that, but I tried to tell myself that we don't eat breakfast out very often anyway, so one big cup of full-caff coffee wasn't going to hurt our chances for a baby. I drew my line in the sand and refused to let infertility win this ground - I just wanted to feel normal for a few minutes - so I ordered my large coffee and determined not to feel bad about it. But once I got home, after my wife left, I'd finished half the cup and felt guilty about drinking any more, so the rest of it got poured down the kitchen sink.

I share my office at work with a man whose wife just gave birth to their third a year ago - some 12 years after their second - so I get to listen to one-sided baby-related phone conversations every day. My boss at work has five kids with his wife, and they got pregnant within short months of getting married; he told me once that he wished he and his wife had had more time to be "just the two of" them. I work with two other men who coach the girls' softball and basketball teams for their respective daughters, which they talk about all the time. The road to our pharmacy (and the shopping center that contains it) is a wide two-lane street that becomes a narrow two-lane street this time of year, as both sides of the road are often lined with parents parking their cars to take their kids to the Little League parks on the left. I dearly wish we could be in the shoes of any one of them.

I don't regret any decisions that I've made. I don't regret that my wife and I decided to wait two years after getting married to be "just the two of us," before we decided we were ready to start trying to expand our family. I don't regret even one minute of the time I get to spend with my wife now; I didn't marry her to have kids, and even if we eventually do have them, I don't need kids to make me feel content in my life with her. Kids will never replace her or overtake her place as first in my heart. But I WANT kids, I WANT to be a father as well as a husband, I WANT my wife to be a mother too. I WANT the chance to try and be the best dad ever, just as I strive now to be the best husband ever every day. I WANT my wife to have the chance to be the best mom ever, because I know she absolutely will be. I don't regret all of the doctor visits, or the surgery, or the supplements I'm taking now, or the lifestyle changes I've made, or the drugs I may have to take in the future, all in an effort to fulfill that deep desire for both of us. Even if we never end up with the end result we hope for, I don't regret the trying. Because I couldn't live with myself if I gave up without trying, and I am NOT ready to stop trying now.

The road may be damned hard, but I've said from the time that I began dating my wife, and I still believe it every whit to be true today - there is NOTHING that we can't face together. We've been through hell together already, and came out stronger on the other side. We don't know where this road will take us next, and we don't know if it will ever take us where we hope to be at all. And that's maddening, and that's heartbreaking. But it's still a road I'm determined to walk. It's still a battle I'm determined to fight. I'm determined to carry on with my wife at my side, determined to help her through this in every way that I can, just as I know she's determined to help me likewise. Infertility has wounded me in many ways, but IT WILL NOT TAKE ME DOWN.