Scary, how much they have in common.
I love you, both.
My wife talked me into writing a blog that deals with Male Infertility. The Elusive Male Perspective. Beyond that, simply enjoy and have fun with it!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Bust a Myth: Infertility ends at Birth
We all dream of that Technicolor moment, sunset in the background, pulling ourselves from a tilled field, thrusting a newborn baby into the air and pledging in our most impassioned Scarlet O’Hara voice “As God is my witness. I will never be Infertile again.” The problem is that infertility slaps you in the face and says “Frankly I don’t give a damn.” It keeps on slapping you in the face even after the baby is born.
When we are faced with dire news, we desire things to go back to the way they were, back to the status quo, back to before the antagonist was introduced into the movie. But once that element enters the scene the south will never be the same again. We have no choice but to deal, cope, or compensate for what has happened to us. We subjugate ourselves to humiliations of painful examinations, explanations to the family members, and jealous painful spite of every other child in the world that is not yours.
So we grasp hold of that turnip of a dream, in the middle of field, and convince yourself that the birth of that child you will so dearly love will end your personal pain. But it doesn’t, at least not for a DI dad. It is so wrong of me to ask that of a child, ask it to stop my pain.
This child is the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me. My life with her is a Technicolor dream; she fills my life with colors I would never have imagined. But she has to be separate from infertility. She cannot be defined as our child born out of infertility; our conquering goal. She doesn’t need that baggage. She just needs to be a child, a kid, a teenager, a adult, a person I love with all my heart.
I was told by a school counselor after looking at a picture of our child that she didn’t look like me. I told her she shouldn’t; she was conceived by donor insemination. She told me that I didn’t need to tell people that, I could keep that private. I can’t do that. If I did I would be hiding my pain in my child and that would be wrong. I would be using her to cover my weaknesses. Who am I to take these drapes of childhood and pass them off as a dress? I have decided that I will talk about what I am, and who I am. I will take ownership of my choices and I will wear them with pride myself.
Infertility still lives in me and it will. Once you have a diagnosis you are not cured. Once a alcoholic always an alcoholic. Once infertile I will always be infertile. I will always have questions to answer. I will always have people question our decision. I will always have the fear of our child in a moment of teenage angst will tell me I am not her real father. I know every argument that a father is not defined by genetics. But I do have that fear one day it will happen. But those are my fears and I will have to be the one to face them.
So maybe, I will go home tonight and throw on my best Scarlett O’Hara dress at sunset walk out into the back yard with Cate, and thrust her into the air and say in my most impassioned voice. “World, say what you want, I don’t give a damn!”
It's National Infertility Awareness Week. Infertility affects 1 out of every 8 couples... like me. Find out how you can participate and provide support to 7.3 million people living with this disease: www.resolve.org/takecharge. This post is part of the Bust a Myth Bloggers Unite project.
When we are faced with dire news, we desire things to go back to the way they were, back to the status quo, back to before the antagonist was introduced into the movie. But once that element enters the scene the south will never be the same again. We have no choice but to deal, cope, or compensate for what has happened to us. We subjugate ourselves to humiliations of painful examinations, explanations to the family members, and jealous painful spite of every other child in the world that is not yours.
So we grasp hold of that turnip of a dream, in the middle of field, and convince yourself that the birth of that child you will so dearly love will end your personal pain. But it doesn’t, at least not for a DI dad. It is so wrong of me to ask that of a child, ask it to stop my pain.
This child is the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me. My life with her is a Technicolor dream; she fills my life with colors I would never have imagined. But she has to be separate from infertility. She cannot be defined as our child born out of infertility; our conquering goal. She doesn’t need that baggage. She just needs to be a child, a kid, a teenager, a adult, a person I love with all my heart.
I was told by a school counselor after looking at a picture of our child that she didn’t look like me. I told her she shouldn’t; she was conceived by donor insemination. She told me that I didn’t need to tell people that, I could keep that private. I can’t do that. If I did I would be hiding my pain in my child and that would be wrong. I would be using her to cover my weaknesses. Who am I to take these drapes of childhood and pass them off as a dress? I have decided that I will talk about what I am, and who I am. I will take ownership of my choices and I will wear them with pride myself.
Infertility still lives in me and it will. Once you have a diagnosis you are not cured. Once a alcoholic always an alcoholic. Once infertile I will always be infertile. I will always have questions to answer. I will always have people question our decision. I will always have the fear of our child in a moment of teenage angst will tell me I am not her real father. I know every argument that a father is not defined by genetics. But I do have that fear one day it will happen. But those are my fears and I will have to be the one to face them.
So maybe, I will go home tonight and throw on my best Scarlett O’Hara dress at sunset walk out into the back yard with Cate, and thrust her into the air and say in my most impassioned voice. “World, say what you want, I don’t give a damn!”
It's National Infertility Awareness Week. Infertility affects 1 out of every 8 couples... like me. Find out how you can participate and provide support to 7.3 million people living with this disease: www.resolve.org/takecharge. This post is part of the Bust a Myth Bloggers Unite project.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Sweet Dreams are made of
When we first started this whole preganancy process one of the best moments was when we first heard the heartbeat. The was no way that Julie or myself could keep from tearing up. No one tells you that when you are in the "THE" room the only constant sound you can hear is her heartbeat. So last night I got a 160+ beat per minute lullaby.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Gladiator names
I have decided that Julie and I need Gladiator names to get through this birthing process. What better way to go into the battle of labor than with the spirit of that great fighting force, the armed combatant known as the Roman Gladiator. In fighting or birthing well, we could inspire admiration and popular acclaim throughout the Roman or dare I say Texas Republic. On the cusp of this great battle we are as of yet unnamed, I call upon you good citizens of the Republic bless us with a name fitting of a conquering hero of the arena.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Shakespeare in Denial
I know that it has been awhile since I posted anything. But I need to get your opinion on this statement Julie made in relationship to packing “THE” bag for the hospital.
“I will get around to it.”
At 37 weeks and 2 days and with her repeating this statement ever since our last child birth class, not to mention that 2 days ago we were “FULL term”.
Trust me I have no problem with procrastination every time I look at a diet plan I recite in my best Shakespearian accent “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!” Your right, I’m not sure how it relates, but it sounds good when I bellow it while leaping from the Kitchen to the living room couch with a plate of Pizza rolls.
To uphold our family motto of
“Love, Honor and Constant Vigilance”
I call upon you good citizens
To rise above your common day,
proclaim to Julie on her blog
that the time is right to strike down
the tyranny of procrastination,
Leap from thine denial of birthing process,
seize hold of the reigns of labor prep
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Or the day we stood up to Julie and told her to
PACK THE BAGS!!!
“I will get around to it.”
At 37 weeks and 2 days and with her repeating this statement ever since our last child birth class, not to mention that 2 days ago we were “FULL term”.
Trust me I have no problem with procrastination every time I look at a diet plan I recite in my best Shakespearian accent “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!” Your right, I’m not sure how it relates, but it sounds good when I bellow it while leaping from the Kitchen to the living room couch with a plate of Pizza rolls.
To uphold our family motto of
“Love, Honor and Constant Vigilance”
I call upon you good citizens
To rise above your common day,
proclaim to Julie on her blog
that the time is right to strike down
the tyranny of procrastination,
Leap from thine denial of birthing process,
seize hold of the reigns of labor prep
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Or the day we stood up to Julie and told her to
PACK THE BAGS!!!
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About Me
- Jeff
- Hi. I'm Jeff. I'd like to apologize now for my grammer sucking so badly. I'm a High School theatre teacher who loves his job. My beautiful wife and I have been TTC for over 21 months. It finally worked. I have azoospermia, as in NO sperm whatsoever. Currently we are pregnant we did IUI with Donor sperm. Be sure to check out Julies blog as well. Tell her hi.
