A Guys guide to Infertility…part 1 of 4,856,782
for the second post in a row, I’m afraid I’m posting for any and all other people out there rather than to you two…unless of course our MFI is hereditary, in which case this post is to you too Jed. (That’s a thought actually…I better find out whether Secondary Hypogonadism is hereditary…hmm)
HopefullyTCC/Mommy-In-Waiting (depending in where you know her from) & I have been talking for some time about writing some posts on the things people don’t tell you with regards infertility and treatment. I don’t know if people are shy, don’t think it’s worth sharing, or haven’t come across these issues/experiences, but we’ve not really found much out there on the gory details, the things that scare the shit out of you at the time and would have been so much better if you were fore-warned.
My dear wife has already got the ball rolling with her first post on the subject…The Best friends Guide to IVF…and I think she’s planning on putting it on a separate permanent page, adding to it as time goes by and as other people comment and give her more content to add.
So, I better do some catch up and start my posting on the subject. Also, anyone out there reading this who has some things to add, please do so, and maybe I’ll do the same – stick it on a permanent page making it easier for other guys to find…
I figured I’d try and tackle this subject logically – it’s a large subject, because rather than just focussing on IVF, I want to tackle this whole Infertility fiasco (well as much as I can based on my own experiences). I warn you now (and anyone who’s read my blog knows this), I’m not going to hide anything, no euphemisms, sugar-coating or ducking the embarrassing bits…there’s no room for any of that with infertility…sensitive or delicate dispositions aren’t allowed – they don’t last 5 minutes in the IF world. And besides which, us guys need things spelled out in small words with lots of pictures – metaphors and subtlety just won’t work…it’s a balls to the wall exposé, a no-holds-barred guide to dealing with this insidious and damaging condition….as I’ve said before…YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!! Read on at your peril…
The first things guys need to know about infertility is that it’s all women’s fault.
Yup, they’re to blame. It’s because of them that this is such a big issue. It’s because of the woman in your life that you’ll be routinely embarrassed, it’s because of your little snugglepuss that you’re going to be miserable, it’s because of your soul mate that this issue eats away at you like a carnivorous cancer.
For starters, if it was left up to guys, there would be no kids. The human race would have died out long ago. Yes, the Creator/Nature (depending on your beliefs) instilled the stronger sexual urges in the male of the species. But It also instilled the mothering instinct in the female of the species. Guys just want sex. We don’t care when, how, why – as long as we get it. Women on the other hand, want children. And sex is just the means to the end (unless they’re infertile, but we’ll get to that later). OK, ok, this is a sweeping generalisation, a bit tongue in cheek, but, the honest truth is that without this programmed NEED to be a mother, infertility wouldn’t be such a big thing.
Take our example as a case in point. I told Hopefully 16 odd years ago that I couldn’t have kids. We weren’t dating or anything. I told her because she was my flatmate and we were really good friends (‘good’ in respect to the fact that we spent all day sitting and talking, and ‘bad’ because it meant we never went to classes = 2x university dropouts). So she knew this before we realised we fancied each other, before we had our first kiss. And, as far as I was concerned, that was it – no doubts, no maybe’s no if’s or buts…me = never having kids.
We hooked up, we got married, we built a life together, we travelled the world for a year, we got jobs, we bought and sold houses and cars, we moved back to South Africa, we bought a house, more cars, started a business, celebrated 10 wedding anniversaries….all without kids in the picture. Hell, almost without kids being mentioned.
Then, just over 18 months ago, this little ticking sound…tick tick tick…the female biological clock…tick tick tick…time’s awasting…tick tick tick…
And here’s the thing gents…they can’t control it. It’s not something they decide one day when walking through the shopping centre…suddenly looking round and wondering where the kiddies shop is, cos they fancy popping in and getting one. It’s not a conspiracy that they’ve been hiding from you for 12 years, and they’re now springing it on you because they’ve assessed your resistance is low. It’s not something they chat about at book club, and decide that what the hell, life isn’t tough enough for us, our marriages, our financial position – lets throw something disruptive into the mix, lets shake things up a bit. It’s not a passing phase, like wanting a tamagochi, a rubik’s cube, a belly-button piercing or whatever this season’s must have accessory is – like ugg boots… They’re not going to forget it if you just ignore it for a while. It’s not going to go away… because, if anything, the longer it goes, the louder that clock ticks…and the louder that clock ticks the more miserable your life will become.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in this life, the most important rule EVER, if you want your life to be happy and relatively care-free, then you better make damn sure that the woman in your life is happy!
Cos, Danté got it wrong, there aren’t nine levels of hell, and if there are, they pale into insignificance besides what your life becomes when your woman isn’t happy.
In summary…infertility is all her fault, but she can’t help it, so move on from casting blame and figure out how you’re gonna be part of the solution…for your own sake as well as hers.