There are many sides to infertility and that includes the marital side of this all. The stuff behind the scenes that no one really sees. The part this struggle plays in our day-to-day lives, at home, when no one else is around. The person who is always on the other side of the table at the pity parties and the full-on mental breakdowns. I mean, I have talked about that side but I haven’t really got into who is always there for those parts of things. Whether happy or sad or angry or miserable, there is always one constant. My husband. Sure, my friends and family are the best of the best and I’m truly lucky to have such a strong support system but there are still things that they don’t see (or hear). They have never witnessed me at the lowest of my low.
They have never had to physically pick me up off the floor when I’m so broken down that I don’t want to move but my husband, my husband has.
I wanted to write this post because I can truthfully say that if I was married to any other human, I don’t know that I would have made it this far. You know when you get married and you never know what it’s going to be like? We went through all that typical marriage hardship stuff (and then some) yet we continuously seemed to make it out on top. Then you think about starting a family and all the baby stuff and you’re like yes, I could totally have a child with this person. But then the baby comes and there are late nights and no sleep and feedings and poop everywhere and tension is high and that is another true test on marriage. There’s yelling and crying and moments where I’m sure some of you have wondered if it was all worth it. Well, I haven’t even got to that part yet, and he hasn’t run for the hills, so I already consider myself lucky. I can truthfully say it takes a special relationship to deal with something of this magnitude. We have faced over seven and a half years of marriage with it being just the two of us. Him and I. No baby in the equation and in fact, we have spent the better part of the last five and a half years trying. These years have allowed us to build a stronger foundation and go through more of our own struggles before embarking on this parenting adventure.
No matter what life adds to my plate, my husband is always there to listen.
It doesn’t matter if I have the same mental breakdown 100 times, he listens and always has the most positive approach (which obviously annoys me sometimes because I just want to wallow in my own sorrow). He is our rock in all of this. He is the part of the equation that keeps me going. Without him, I may have given up on this dream a very long time ago.
So with this I say:
Dear Husband,
Thank you. Thank you one hundred, thousand, million times. Your love, support and compassion throughout all of this speaks volumes to the kind of man you truly are. For every time you are there when I need you the most, I picture how amazing of a dad you will be to our (one-day) child.
You are the only reason I will never give up.
Love,
Me
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By Michelle Long,alongroadtobaby.wordpress.com
Awww. I could have written this myself, about my rock, my husband.
I’m 39 now, met him at 33. The story of my life is, “I thought I/we had more time…”