Tuesday, September 28, 2004

when this is all over

On Sunday, I schlepped over to my friend's new house for lunch. I went solo because my husband caught the cold that I was fighting last week and he didn't have a voice. I felt like I had to go anyway since I had blown off these friends last weekend using my own germiness as an excuse. . .These are the friends who got a diagnosis of a low sperm count and then got pregnant a month later.

For the first couple of hours that I was there, there was no talk of infertility and I was very relieved. I wasn't sure how I'd react if she brought up once again that we were going through the same thing. Instead, I got a tour of the new place, was asked about my job, played with her little girl, ate myself silly.

It wasn't until we were on to dessert that she asked about our new doctor. I clarified that Guru wasn't our new doctor yet, though we want him to be, that he seems to promise better treatment more specifically geared toward our problem than Hope. I didn't go into detail, didn't want to ruin my decent afternoon by bringing up all the unknowns.

My friend said (for the millionth time since she found out we were having troubles) that when she found out about her husband, she cried every day. And I thought to myself that crying every day for a month is a bit different than crying every day for 6 months (or longer.) But I didn't say that. I simply said that we're doing what we need to be doing and we can't let ourselves get depressed over something that we have so little control over. I told her how now that I'm working, I have a built-in distraction. And now that we're trying this new doctor, things look a little more positive. I think she got it.

Her husband chimed in, gesturing to his baby girl sitting in her little seat on the floor, with "When this is all over and you have your baby, you'll forget everything you went through."

I know what he meant. Really, I do. That the struggle is worth it, because when its all over you have on of "these". But at the time when he said it, it sounded all wrong.

I can't imagine ever forgetting any of this. And I think that when I finally do get pregnant, if I finally do get pregnant, I will be grateful and overwhelmed and thrilled. But when and if that little baby is snuggling in my arms, I won't forget what brought him or her into this world. What my husband and I went through to bring him or her here. I wouldn't really want to. I think it's important that our future baby know just how much s/he was wanted. How much we were willing to do to bring him or her into this world.

I also know that the couple I was visiting doesn't plan on having any more kids. They always wanted one. Just one. And now they have her.

But my husband and I have always wanted two or three. I realize there's a chance I could be blessed with twins, but should that not happen, we'll have to make the decision whether or not to go through all of this again for a second child. If we do decide to grow our family even more, we won't be able to ignore what it took to grow it in the first place.

No matter what we decide, this process will not be forgotten. How can it be? There's just too much at stake. It's too big.

And, I can't help but think, over a year later with a baby in her arms, my friend still gets a little teary when she talks about finding out about her husband's low sperm count. She hasn't forgotten. Why will I?


Blogger Julianna said...

so very true. beautiful post.

8:41 AM  
Blogger amanda said...

I don't think any of us will be able to forget. I know I sure won't.

9:24 AM  
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