Since I went off the pill nearly a year ago, MM has been the optimistic one. Even though on some level I thought I'd get pregnant right away, a small part of me (pessimistically, as I thought at the time) feared that we'd have problems.
Even in light of the fact that we have been trying for many cycles, MM remained optimistic.
Until last night. . . .
When I mentioned to him that I'd had some spotting and expected AF to arrive within the next 12 hours or so, suddenly he was angry and frustrated. He ranted for a while about how unfair this is, how the felons he supervises can get women pregnant at the drop of a hat, how he didn't want to have to use medical intervention to achieve a pregnancy.
Really, he was just expressing many of the same feelings I've had over the past several months. While I am still sometimes angry and frustrated when I think about our failure to conceive thus far, I have somehow reached a point of semi-acceptance. . . . where I still think the whole situation is unfair and hard to grasp but realize that without some affirmative action on our parts, we will likely be childless. (And may be childless even WITH intervention.)
You might think that I would feel good about the fact that MM has finally "arrived" emotionally at this place, but I really didn't/don't. Because there is no explanation for our inability to get pregnant and our RE has told us that the most likely reason is my age, I feel bad and guilty. I've known since very early in our relationship how important having a child of his own is to MM, and it's very difficult for me to realize that this seemingly simple thing. . . . this thing that most couples achieve without much effort. . . . may be something I cannot give him.
Because of his unique circumstances, I actually think my husband has a more compelling reason than most men to want to be a dad. In addition to all the usual reasons people wish to become parents, he wants a family (or at least one child) of his own because without it, he will be basically alone in the world when his parents pass on someday. Sure, he'll have me, but there is obviously no blood relationship between us. He is an only child, and both his parents are also only children. His grandparents are all dead. So once his parents are gone, without a child of his own, he will be alone in the world except for some distant cousins he doesn't know well and rarely sees. (And he'd likely lose touch with them if his mom were gone.) For him, if we don't have a child, losing his parents will mean losing his whole family, everyone in the world with whom he has a genetic link.
Meanwhile, the life of the fertile continues. Two friends had baby girls this week. One is a former coworker of mine who is better friends (and still works) with my best friend KC; the other is the girl I used to babysit (yeah, she's nearly 26 now) whose mother has known me since childhood and whose half-sister is a friend of mine since high school. So not close friends, but women whose pregnancies I have followed and whose babies' photos have been prominently displayed where I can see them.
When the second friend gave birth on Tuesday, I actually made a mental note of the fact that she was the last pregnant woman I know personally. No more hearing about pregnancy for a while.
When I came home from dinner with a friend after work yesterday, I had personal correspondence from an unfamiliar name/address. Turned out to be a baby shower invitation for a former coworker who I didn't even know was pregnant. I am happy for her--she is 35, has been married for nearly 5 years, and I didn't know if they'd have children--but unhappy, once again, for me.
And oh yeah: I finally started my period early this morning. I'm crampy and feel blah. But at least we can finally get on with stuff.