A Man’s Perspective on Infertility: Carrying the Burden Together

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by Marcus

People rarely hear about infertility from the perspective of a man. Within the infertility community, all of the support groups, social media, and other forums are dominated by women. There is a reason for this. Men and women are different. Men and women process, grieve, emote, and communicate differently. But this does not imply that the men involved are not struggling in their own way.

I can really only speak for myself here, and my perspective is somewhat unique. I am an OBGYN. In my everyday job I am part of the joys and sorrows of pregnancy and childbearing, including working with couples who are trying to get pregnant. Therefore, fertility is something I think about every single day. But I am not an OBGYN at home. I am just a husband. And I am now a father.

When Betsy and I got married, I had just finished medical school and was about to start a residency in OBGYN. I really knew nothing about infertility other than the science. I was very excited to be married, and I was ready to have kids whenever Betsy decided (this is how things work in my house). I always wanted to be a father. I liked thinking about my future as a tee ball coach, or taking my kids on family vacations. Betsy was a perfect match for me, as I knew from the moment I met her that she would be a fantastic mother. We wanted the same things in life.

When we did start trying to have kids, I have to say, I was not all that surprised when we ran into problems. I had always had this weird thought in the back of my brain that I wouldn’t be able to have kids. Why? I have no idea. Young men shouldn’t have that thought. It didn’t happen right away.  I knew that it can take awhile to get pregnant. “Relax. No big deal. It’s just taking awhile”. That’s what I would tell myself. Then it started to wear on us. Each month was traumatic. Betsy wore her emotions differently than me. I tried to stay strong and optimistic. I tried to support her. I tried. I really tried. I don’t think I did a very good job.

As more time passed I had no clue what to do. I was stressed. How do I support her? How do I be there for her when I have to work all the time (I was in residency…)? How do we maintain our identity as a couple? How do I feel about all this? I had really pushed my own feelings aside, trying to be the light of positivity and strength and completely failed to let myself feel anything at all.

Then we did more testing and got some answers. Suddenly everything exploded for me personally. Now I felt the emotions. My initial thought was that since I could not give Betsy the one thing she has always wanted, she would leave me.  Obviously, this was irrational, and this thought did not last long, but it was a part of my individual struggle. I was done trying to the big, strong man trying to comfort her. I was feeling the emotions right there with her.  It was right around this time that we really started talking to each other again. I think we started to understand each others pain as individuals, which helped us grieve together.  This helped us to heal together. We started growing stronger. Together.

What I learned is that infertility is not one persons problem. Women struggle. Men struggle. That struggle looks different from the outside. But the burden is still carried together. The grief is experienced together. It has to be in order to allow room for healing. Healing individually. Healing as a couple. And you never really heal completely. But it can get easier.

Seasons of Motherhood

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Dear Mamas,

While telling my husband about the joys and difficulties of each day of staying home, my new motto has become, “this is just a season of our life.”

My season right now is filled with days at home. Running with a toddler to the potty. Feeding my four month old a bottle with my chin so I can help my toddler undress and get up on the potty (because toddlers always have to go right when you start feeding the baby. Mine isn’t the only one, right?!) Snuggles. Take out food. Laundry. Amazon Prime. Carrying two kids at once. Peanut butter sandwiches. Yoga pants and messy buns. Crying  (baby, toddler, and mama). ABCs. Cooking. Multiple wakings a night. Coffee. Movies. Playing the same game over and over. Washing bottles. Doctor appointments. Giggles.

Some of the best and hardest days of my life.

Some days I feel so accomplished. The toddler pooped in the potty! The baby slept all night! The laundry is done AND folded. Dinner is made. Bills are paid. Groceries are bought. I showered (no…it doesn’t happen every day). Worked out. Kids ate their veggies. Toddler named all the right colors in his book.

Some days I can barely pull myself out of bed after a rough night with baby. We watch multiple movies. We eat pizza and cookies. The only thing close to my makeup being done is the smeared eyeliner from two days before (one of those accomplished days). I am grumpy and snap at the toddler when he cries for my attention.

My biggest realization lately: I can’t do it all. Moms!! You can’t do it all. Or even if you can, you shouldn’t.

You are human. You are allowed to make mistakes. You are allowed to have a bad day. You do not have to be perfect for your children.

If you feel like you aren’t living up to your own expectations for yourself as a mother, that just means you are setting them so high because you love your children. You LOVE them. Even on the bad days (where let’s be honest) maybe your kids are driving you crazy, you still love them. Unconditionally.

As mothers, we will go through many seasons. From being their only caretaker to sending them off to college, we are all in a tough season.

Because motherhood is hard. It demands your constant attention. Even when the kids are sleeping. Or staying over at a friend’s house for the first time. Or going on a first date. They never leave you. You will always be responsible for them and their hearts. And that is a huge responsibility that can sometimes feel too heavy a burden to carry. But you do it anyway because you love them. And as my mother has informed me, it never goes away.

Our children need us. They always will. They will just need us in different ways.

Honestly, there are days where I can’t wait for the next season, but I also know there will come a day when I am longing for my days at home with my boys. The days where I am the one who offers them the most comfort. The days of carrying both boys because I know that soon enough, they won’t want me to even hold their hands.

In every day, even the bad days, look for something good. Look for something to hold on to in your memory. Something to be thankful for.

Today, in all honesty, wasn’t a great day. My husband is working a 24 hour shift, I’m alone with the boys, and I wasn’t my best. But I made Daxon smile his real, beautiful, authentic smile multiple times today. And I snuggled Pace for an extra nap this evening. I wasn’t my best, but I gave them what I had. Instead of beating myself up for what I didn’t give them, tonight I’ll remember the little moments we did have together. I’ll remember Daxon cheering Pace up by dancing and singing over top of him while I was rushing to make a bottle. Carrying them both down the stairs and Daxon grabbing Pacyn’s hand.

Days are long, but the seasons are short. Take them all in with the good and the bad. Give yourself a break because some days are just hard. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be there for them. Love them.

You may not see it, but you are doing a great job. Whatever you did today, it is enough. You are enough for your children. No matter the season, you are an amazing mother.

All my love,

Betsy

 

 

 

 

 

Where Are You God?

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Dear No One,

I’m going to get a little personal. And vulnerable. Bear with me here folks.

My two boys got baptized today. Daxon is two and Pacyn is three months.

GAH!! They are the cutest, right?! I thought you’d think so.

Anyway, you may wonder why we didn’t baptize Dax earlier and here’s the truth.

One of the biggest things I lost during the worst times of our infertility journey was my faith.

Infertility can strip you of so many things, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I let it control my life for too long. Rather than turn to God, I blamed Him. I drank. I cried. I fought with my husband. The only thing I thought I knew for sure in my life was that I was made to be a mother. And then He was going to keep me from that?!??! “Screw you, God.”

Yea. I know. It’s bad. But that’s where I was.

Fast forward to bringing Dax home in December 2016, and I wanted to sing God’s praises at the Christmas service that year. But as time slipped away, I found myself still questioning everything. When asked about baptism by family, I made excuses. “His adoption isn’t finalized. We’re moving. We just moved and need to get settled.” Etc.

But the truth was I was not ready to stand before God and my family and proclaim to raise my child in His church. That seemed too big of a promise when I wasn’t in a good place with my faith.

Time has continued on, and we have found a church we love. I found a group of women that show me love and grace as I continue to grow in my faith. I still question a lot. I still find myself turning away when things get…too churchy…if that makes sense at all.

But I can’t deny that two little boys became my sons in two miraculously beautiful ways. I know God played a huge part in that. And today, I’m thankful for that love. That after turning my back from the church and my faith, it has welcomed me back…no questions asked.

This isn’t me trying to preach at you. This is me being brutally honest and sharing one of the deepest parts of my heart with you.

And to say to anyone struggling with their faith, no matter why, that it’s okay. It’s okay to not be okay. Its okay to questions things. How would you continue to grow and learn without questioning and pushing for answers? It’s okay to struggle. Just know that you don’t have to struggle alone. Whether you find your strength through friends or family or faith, you do not and should not walk through this life alone.

I know now that I didn’t walk through my darkest days in the best way, and I know it’s easy for me to sit here and speak of what to do now that I have my two blessings. But believe me that just because I have hit this point in my journey, I still have hard days. I still struggle. I still question most things.

Growing our family comes with deep, long discussions. And time. And money. And sometimes feeling as though we are “playing God” when deciding when and how to grow our family. Infertility is still a part of our life. It always will be.

Although I still struggle, I choose to wake up and thank God every day for two of the biggest blessings in my life. And when I forget, my two year old reminds me when he tells me to pray at every meal. I’m choosing today to lean on my faith, lean on my husband, lean on my friends and family as I walk through this crazy life.

I’m not perfect, and I’m guessing you aren’t either but show yourself some patience and grace as you continue to grow. There will be dark days. There will be bright, beautiful days. Choose to love yourself through them all. You’re worth it.

Today I was proud and humbled to see both my boys baptized, and I will do my best to stand by the promises I made to both my boys and God.

What a bright, beautiful day in my life. I thank God not only for this day but for the darkest days that led me to this bright one. And I pray you find the support you need (faith, family, whatever you want) to get through your worst days.

All my love,

Betsy

Adoption Language

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Dear No One,

Let’s talk about adoption language. This is not to criticize anyone who says or has said any of these things to me. It is simply informative, so we can all continue to grow and learn as the modern day families are changing. Believe me, I’m continuing to learn more about adoption every day.

The best thing anyone can do if they feel uncomfortable about what to say is to ask me. I will answer (the best I can) with absolutely no judgment.

First, this may sound like an easy one, but I get it a lot. Marcus is Daxon’s Daddy. I am his Mommy. He also has a birth mom and birth dad, but even they call Marcus and I mom and dad. If you are talking about his “real parents” that is Marcus and me. If you are talking about who he shares genetics with or who carried him for nine months, those are his birth parents.

Why is this important? This is not to spare my feelings. This is for Dax. How confusing would it be to have people asking about your mom but they aren’t talking about me? Or his “real parents?” To him, we are his parents. Just like every kid at school, he lives with and is taken care of by his “real parents.” This does not take away from his birth mom. He is and always will be her son.

In the same respect, Daxon is our son too. He is not our adopted son. He is just as much our son as our biological son. And even though they don’t look alike, they are brothers.

This second thing is what I want to stress the most, though. Daxon was NOT GIVEN UP. He was placed for adoption. His birth mom, stronger and braver and more loving than she knows, CHOSE adoption for her son. Again, what does that say if Daxon hears he was “given up?” And what does that tell a birth mom who may struggle the rest of her life thinking her child thought he was given up because he wasn’t loved?

“Given up” is negative. Placing a child for adoption, although complicated and difficult, is a positive decision. Choosing to parent is also a positive decision. And until that woman or family decides to place a child for adoption, they are simply that parents child. They are not a birth mom or birth dad.

This is hard when you are prospective adoptive parents. You want to instantly think of the child as yours, but they aren’t yours until the parents decide to place them for adoption and they have gone through all the legal processes.

Does all this sound a little confusing and messy? It is. Adoption is difficult and messy and beautiful and challenging.

Why am I writing this post? When I was in the hospital after delivering our second son, I was given a bunch of paperwork to fill out. On the back of the paper, I saw question 26…

First, I cried. Then I got mad.

I put myself in the shoes of a parent considering adoption. The weight I felt in my heart was indescribable. Yet countless women make the most difficult, selfless, decision in the next couple days to place their child for adoption. Hormones raging, babies bonding, recovering from a physically and mentally draining experience.

After delivering Pace, I instantly felt even closer to Daxon’s birth mom. I got to experience the same journey and pain and hormones you experience during pregnancy, labor, and hours after. But I didn’t have the added stress of considering adoption and talking to a social worker and meeting random people that could potentially adopt your child. I just can’t imagine the pain or stress that brings. And then as they are filling out and signing discharge papers, they have to say they are “giving up” the child?

I understand someone slipping up and saying this. I don’t understand it being on paperwork. In the hospital. Filled out by a new mother considering adoption. I. Don’t. Understand.

You may think I’m overreacting. You may think it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but if you are any person within the adoption triad, it is.

If you support adoption, (which why wouldn’t you??) we need to support everyone within the triad. That means the birth parents before they even become birth parents. Let’s not make this decision anymore difficult for them than it already is. Let’s not add to the guilt they may already feel. Let’s show them the love and support they deserve.

In the end, this will only benefit everyone in the adoption triad and all of their relationships.

As I said before, no one expects you to say the right things all the time. Just be conscious that children can hear you. If you don’t know how to say something, ask. If you support adoption, support everyone within it. We are all learning and growing together. The more people that understand the intricate layers of adoption, the more people that can truly relate to and support my son and all children who have been adopted.

Thank you for taking the time to learn and grow with me and my family.

All my love,

Betsy

Happy Birthday Marcus

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Dear No One,

Today is my husband’s birthday. Now I know it is easy to say nice, generic things about people on Instagram that make them look perfect.

The truth is that he is not perfect, but he’s pretty darn close to the perfect man for me and my family. It’s impossible to completely capture someone in writing, but here is my attempt.

He is a gentle giant. 6’6 so he really is a giant to most people. But the gentle part is what I want to focus on here.

We went on a cruise a few years ago with my sister, her husband, and some friends. Marcus got hypnotized one night. They told them all that they were eating at a restaurant, their meal got messed up, and they were as mad as they can be. I leaned over to my sister and said, “Marcus doesn’t get mad. I don’t know what he’s going to do.” Sure enough, he kind of pointed down to his plate and shrugged like he was a little disappointed but understood. When hypnotized and all inhibitions are gone, he still couldn’t get mad.

Even with a fairly controlling, anxious, hormonal wife, he never gets too worked up about anything. He’d rather talk it through and move forward.

He is hardworking. He is an OB/GYN, so just getting through medical school and residency was an incredibly long, challenging road. And now he spends every day caring for women with as much or more empathy than he shows me every day at home (which is a lot). He then comes home and helps me with literally every request I have (with no complaints), cleans the house, cooks if I don’t want to, mows the yard, scoops the snow, fixes everything we broke during the day, and continues to check in on patients. He will call a patient on a Sunday because he knows they are sitting around, anxiously waiting for a result. He will work 28 hours in a row and come home and start cleaning or playing with the boys. His work is never done, at his job and at home. He functions on little to no sleep just to spend more time with us. I think it must be that Iowa farm boy in him that makes him so hardworking.

He is also EXTREMELY gifted at multiple things. One, he is very smart. I mean, he’s a doctor. But he also knows the most random facts because he has a thirst for knowledge.

Two, he is very athletic. He played football in college, and he went to state in high school for every sport he played. Anything we play, I tend to just get frustrated because I will never beat him. Except golf. He refuses to play with me because he knows I might actually beat him at one sport. Everything else, I lose.

Three, he is an amazing musician. He will hear a song, sit down at the piano or with his guitar and be playing it within two minutes. He can harmonize any song, play the piano upside down (see video), play full songs on kid toys, and will learn any song I request. (My favorite is when he plays “River Flows In You” on the piano. I walked down the aisle to it at our wedding.) Now we just need to work on his dance moves. I told you, he’s not perfect.

I could probably keep going, but I’m hoping you are getting the picture. He is a big kid at heart, works extremely hard not only for his family but his patients, loves with everything he has, and is extremely handsome (I had to throw that in there somewhere).

It sounds cheesy, (what about this post hasn’t been cheesy??) but he makes me a better person. He empathizes with me instead of trying to fix me, he pushes me to do anything I want, shows me patience when I don’t deserve it, and lets me nap as often as I want.

He is often overlooked right now. Our life is busy, and my daily focus is on our boys. But Marcus, if you are actually reading this, I see you. I see everything you are doing for me and the boys. I don’t always show it, but I love you for every perfect and not so perfect part of you. Now I’ll throw it back to 2011 and your favorite picture of us.

Happy birthday love.

All my love,

Betsy

2018: Thank You, but Goodbye

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Dear No One,

Happy New Year! I’m not really a person that has a resolution every year. A year is a long time and a lot can happen. Just like my 2018.

We started the year off with a bang. January. IVF. Shots. Meds. Hyperstimulation. Delayed embryo transfer.

February. Patience. Or learning about patience. More meds to prep for frozen embryo transfer.

March. Embryo transfer. First positive pregnancy test. EVER!

April-June. Morning sickness (all day). Some fun trips and summer fun with Dax.

July-October. Overall feeling well. Tired. Swollen. Loved watching my belly grow.

November. Baby born 4 weeks early. The rest is a blur.

December. Figuring out life as a family as four.

2018. Another year of growing our family. I am beyond grateful that we had great success with IVF and we welcomed another baby boy in the same year, but it was a personally challenging year. I would do IVF again to get to Pacyn, but it was hard. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.

This was followed by morning sickness where I spent most days on the couch. We watched a lot of Moana. Survival mode.

Honestly, even on my best days, I did not enjoy pregnancy. I’m saying it. I felt so guilty every day feeling that way. I know so many women that would kill to be pregnant. I was one of those women. Like I said, I’m so grateful for the experience, but I did not enjoy it like I thought I would. Pregnancy is hard. It was draining. I felt guilty every day that I couldn’t play with Daxon the way I wanted. And after struggling with fertility, I was constantly in a state of anxiety and fear that something would go wrong.

Then I got preeclampsia and Pacyn came into the world 4 weeks early after a week of feeling miserable, multiple trips to the hospital, and 29 hours from induction to his birth.

We have been working on growing our family since 2014. We are so lucky to have our two boys. But growing our family takes a lot of time, effort, money, emotions, etc.

2018 – You were necessary to become a family of four. I’m grateful to you. You brought me Pacyn. You showed me I am way stronger than I thought. Thank you, but goodbye.

2019 – We are ready to just enjoy our time as a family instead of constantly thinking and working towards “growing” our family. For the first time in five years. I may not have a resolution, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to make this a great one. As a family of four.

All my love,

Betsy

Dear Charlie

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Dear Charlie,

When Marcus and I started trying to start our family, I joked that if we didn’t have a baby or weren’t pregnant in another year that we would get another dog.

The result: you.

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You instantly became a huge part of my healing. You were glued to me. Followed me everywhere. Laid next to me on the couch when another month passed without a baby. You quickly became my baby.

When we got you, we were told you were probably 8-10 years old, so we had no idea how long we’d have you. You quickly showed us some of your insecurities and fears that made our hearts ache for whatever you had been through before we got you. The first day you wouldn’t even walk through our house as you didn’t know how to walk on hardwood floors.

You were stubborn. You never listened to Marcus, and he often compared you to someone else he knew who doesn’t do anything they didn’t want to do…(me). Just like our decision to get you. We debated all night if it was the best thing for Louie, but I could not give it up. I knew I saw a sweet, gentle soul that deserved a good life. You were our dog the very next day.

And you were exactly that. Sweet. Gentle. Lazy. All you wanted in your last years were a comfy place to lay and someone to pet you. And I think we gave you that.

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But my sweet boy, you gave us so much more. You were the answer to Louie’s anxiety problems. Louie went from an underweight, kenneled, pulling hair out of his tail dog to a fat and happy dog that never needed to be kenneled again.

For me, you gave me comfort. For me, you gave me love. For me, you walked with me through some of the worst times.

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Everyone that met you fell in love instantly. Your gentle soul was so easy to love. Even through all of your appointments, blood draws, etc. recently, doctors always asked, “Is he always this calm?”

Yes.

I find it ironic that you came to us when we couldn’t get pregnant, and you left in the third trimester of my first pregnancy. We didn’t get you long, but you filled a hole in my heart that will never be filled by any other dog or human.

I miss you already buddy. I hope you have found some peace.

All my love,

Betsy

Juggling

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Dear No One,

As we move farther into this pregnancy, I realize my concern for my two boys grows every day.

Yes I am feeling the sadness of thinking about it not being just Dax and me all day, every day. We have such a deep attachment to one another, I can hardly imagine having that with another child. I know every mother with more than one child can and has reassured me that I will instantly feel my heart grow, and I’ll love our new life as a family of four. While this is on my heart a lot, it’s really not what’s been troubling me.

Daxon was adopted. We all know that. We openly talk about it and his birth parents. We will continue to talk about it with him as it is part of his story. But then I already hear myself and everyone around me talking about our second son’s genetics. For example, our sweet baby boy is measuring a week ahead right now. The ultrasound technician told us he has “very skinny, long feet” and will be “very tall”…”just like his Daddy.”

Somehow I felt very torn at these words. “Just. Like. His. Daddy.” Daxon will never hear that when it comes to his looks. At first, I thought, “we shouldn’t say stuff like that. It’ll be hard for Dax to hear.” Then I thought, “Well it’s not fair to our second son to not talk about where he comes from.” There I felt it. Split between my son who was adopted and biological son.

Honestly, I hate even admitting that out loud. I don’t think of them as my “son who was adopted” and “biological son.” They are my sons. But either way, doesn’t every mother worry about every little thing when it comes to their children. I’m normal, right?? Right?! (Normal may not be the word most of my family would use to describe me.) But I’m going with normal in this situation.

Anyway, as hard as that is for me to admit, I took time to talk myself through it. And here’s what I came up with. Daxon won’t hear about his physical attributes matching with ours, but he will (and already does!) hear about how he looks like his birth parents. That’s just the truth. Our second son will hear about how he looks like us. Also just part of his story. They will both hear how they DO or SAY things “just like Daddy.” They will both be loved. By us. Unconditionally. For the rest of their lives. (Like it or not, I’m not going anywhere. Hope they find me future daughter-in-laws that also want me around…a lot!)

I guess what I realized is that it’s okay. Daxon may ask questions or feel sad someday when random people tell us “how tall our boys will be” or when he hears how his brother looks just like his Daddy. But we will be there to answer questions and use those opportunities to teach him even more about adoption and his story. It is okay. These boys will never think of each other as “my adopted brother” or “the biological brother”. They will be brothers. Just brothers. They will learn what it means to protect each other and respect each other’s stories.

Adoption is part of our family. IVF is a part of our family. We are a beautiful mix, and they will both hear about how hard we worked to get to them. My boys. My sweet Mama’s boys. Forever.

All my love,

Betsy

Still Here

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Dear No One,

I’m sure you’ve all desperately been missing my posts! Right??! Let’s just say the first trimester was…rough.

But hello second trimester!! I am now 15 weeks pregnant and feeling so much better. I feel like a real human again. But I’m not here to talk pregnancy.

I struggled for the last couple months to know how to keep advocating for infertility and being a support system to others now that I am pregnant. Honestly, I knew that in my deepest struggle, I got nothing from people telling me about how they got through infertility and all the beautiful children they have now. I know that you don’t want me to tell you that “it will happen for you!!” Because you know what?? I don’t know what your story will be like in the end. Will you do IUI? Seven rounds of IVF? Donated embryo? Surrogate? Private adoption? Foster care? No children? I. Don’t. Know.

I wish my experience of getting pregnant on our first round of IVF could be the hope everyone needs. But I know better. I see women who are on their sixth round of IVF. I know women who were days behind me and miscarried. I know people who can’t afford anymore treatments. Or adoption. Or emotionally afford to put their heart out to hope at all. Somehow, we’ve turned into the “lucky ones.”

Believe me when I say, I don’t take one day of being pregnant for granted. Even in the hardest days, I would do this all over again to be here now.

So I’m here to say, I’m still here. I will still listen to you. But I also understand if talking to me with my growing belly is too difficult. I’m still here. I’m praying for you. I’m constantly thinking of you all. If you can use our story for hope, great! If you feel jealous, I’ve been there. I don’t judge you.

Keep your head up. Find support that is helpful to you. Know that I’m always here to talk. But know that I understand if I am not that person for you (at least for now).

All my love,

Betsy

5 Years

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Dear Marcus,

Happy fifth anniversary! There is nowhere I’d rather be today than spending time with you and Daxon at home. Although five years ago was one of my favorite days ever.

We both know, though, that five years didn’t come without challenges. I find it ironic that our anniversary falls during National Infertility Awareness Week as our infertility has been our biggest challenge the last four years.

While five years doesn’t seem like much to others, the growth we have made is immeasurable. You know when I’m getting hangry before I even do, and you know I am not capable of making decisions (big or small) when I get like that. You understand my (somewhat large) emotions. You know me. You understand me sometimes more than I understand myself. And I am a complicated person, so that is saying a lot.

We are not the people we were five years ago because we have grown. Together. We could have just as easily grown apart. But you have shown me that we are better together. We are stronger together. It may not all be “Instagram perfection,” but I think our growth has come from those not-so-perfect moments.

Thank you for standing by me. Every day. Through everything. I’m not sure there is anyone else in this world that could love and forgive me as easily and beautifully as you do.

I feel like this is really just the beginning of some of the best years of our lives. I can’t wait to watch our family grow and enjoy our crazy, chaotic, amazing life. Together.

All my love,

Betsy