In honor of the sappiest day of the year, Valentine's Day, I decided to repost an old entry I wrote over on my old blog two years ago. Enjoy the sap!
Our story is no secret. Due to some unknown reason, my Fallopian tubes were destroyed rendering me infertile. I don't necessarily feel like a failure, but when I see my husband longingly looking at a baby, my heart withers knowing that to give him a baby will require extensive & intrusive medical intervention and/or expensive adoption.
We have chosen adoption, as you all know. But the pain still lingers.
As the FHH (Freaking Hot Husband) and I watched Downton Abbey this weekend, my heart remembered the ache, the hurt, the disappointment and failure depicted by Mrs. Anna Bates when she learned she's lost yet another baby and may not be able to carry any more.
I've been there. I've felt those feelings. I have experienced the ache so deep inside that it makes me curl into a ball and hold myself in to prevent an explosion of uncontrollable emotion.
As I watched the interaction between Mr. Bates & Anna in last night's episode, I was reminded of one of the hardest conversations the FHH and I have ever had. It was one of those gut-wrenching, hand-holding, weeping, praying, staring-off-into-space-trying-to-make-sense-of-life conversations where we bared our souls and left them on the table.
Mr. Bates comes across Anna crying and mourning her latest miscarriage. He kindly but firmly tells her that enough is enough. He grabs hold of her and tells her that she is a married woman and never has to cry alone ever again.
Anna states her failure and Mr. Bates claims that it is not her burden to bear alone, but one they carry together because they are one. One flesh, one person.
As we watched this scene, I looked over at the FHH and asked if they'd been eavesdropping on our lives. The whole interaction between Anna and her husband was almost verbatim our hard conversation.
It was a conversation that hurt to have, to talk through. It was one that required utter honesty and vulnerability. And it was one where I heard the FHH speak words through a mouth thick with tears that made me fall deeper, madder in love with him.
I thought I had been fighting the infertility battle alone. The FHH didn't seem to be having any problems with it. He wasn't the one whose body failed him. I was wilting under the self-imposed pressure.
Then he spoke.
He told me my struggles were not my own. He looked me in the eye and said we are one flesh and my sadness, my disappointment, my failures weren't solely mine. He told me I was not alone in my pain and that he carried my pain with me.
I wept harder. Deeper.
I loved him harder. Deeper.
While that conversation was several weeks (maybe even months?) ago, I relived it while watching Mr. Bates console Anna. I gazed at my FHH and thanked God for the man I got to marry.