Hello. I'm the husband. I will be referred to in various ways on this site: "Husband," "Hubs," "Noah," or a jumble of expletives, depending on which round of medication we're dealing with. And I do mean "we," not "she/her/wife/author". As difficult as it is to go through infertility, it most certainly is a "we" problem. The weight and pain and frustration is simply too much for any single set of shoulders.
As we've jumped headlong with just our flashlights and our love into the search to start a family, I've become more and more impressed with my wife. You see, by nature she's not a patient person. She gets upset easily when she feels she's been wronged or been dealt an unfair hand. Often, a woman with these qualities can be seen as feisty and headstrong as well as some other words. But throw a battle with infertility at her and it's a whole other ball game. The more women and couples I meet who have gone through this (or are going through it now), the more I am impressed with the strength of these women. I've given my wife upwards of one hundred medication injections in the last six months. I've seen her go from having six-pack abs, to a stomach so tight and bloated that I couldn't grab enough skin to jam a needle into it. And every needle and every time she cries and every time she yells for this nightmare to be over, I see her get stronger. As a man in this scenario, my medical involvement is, while important, quite minimal. I go into a strange room, close the door, and produce a "sample". That's about it. Sure, it sounds like hard work, but let me assure you that I've been practicing for these moments literally my entire life.
My point is, as a husband I find myself in an awkward position. I'm the hand-holder, the "everything will be fine" guy, the back-rubber, and the guy that makes the mistake of buying a woman bloated on hormones clothing to make her feel nice. I have very few jobs and I manage to mishandle many of them. The job that I take very seriously, though, is to make my wife laugh. My job is to distract her from all of this and remind her to smile. And sometimes, I'm so dragged down in the frustraions and depression, too, that I forget to do my job. And then she cries because the drugs don't work or they work too well or it's just a shitty day. And then I need to do my job even better.
In conclusion, ladies, you're amazing. The way you don't throw punches when a friend with no infertility experience tells you, "just relax and it'll happen" is a work in monk-like discipline. I have never seen tenacity and strength in people the way I've seen it in a woman who's dealt with infertility. So guys, give her a kiss after every shot and tell her she's awesome, let her cry her ever-loving heart out on your shoulder, and when she yells at you for an hour because you left your gym shoes out, just remind her that it's the medication that's holding the knife and not her. And then pick up your damn shoes. You should know better.
Here's a picture of us two months before IVF. I have to remind her every day that we will one day be this happy couple again.
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