This morning I got a rather painful reminder of the damage that infertility has done to my DH. It was a shock to be reminded that I’m not the only one in this situation, that I’m not the only one hurt and damaged by this situation, but I worry that perhaps I am the only one who is working through the emotion of the situation and not just bottling it up, never talking about it and burying it deep within myself. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own hurt and pain and determination to succeed at this that I forget that he hurts and has pain over it as well and the worst part? I did this to him. He is not a willing participant in this. This is my fault. But let me back track a bit to give you some back ground.
Walter is my second husband. I was married to my first husband for almost 2 years before we divorced, he was an abusive bully who had numerous affairs throughout our relationship, the final straw was when I discovered he’d been having a rather long affair with a woman I thought was my best friend. You can imagine, this relationship did a lot of damage to me, there are still issues from this relationship that I’m trying to deal with even now. I have serious trust & self esteem issues and have to keep reminding myself that Walter is not my ex husband. What compounded these problems further was that straight after my divorce I got invovled with a man for about 2 years who although not a physical bully was an emotional bully. Our relationship ended when he told me that he could not take our relationship to the next level as he did not want to commit to me as he was afraid he’d miss out on something better! Can you imagine??!!! During this time in my life, my faith was probably the strongest it has ever been. I had a beautiful relationship with God, he spoke to me and sent me messages and led me through a mine field of hurt and pain and confusion. On a particularly bad day, I’d been having my quiet time and I’d asked God to show me what my future held, was I going to find happiness, would I ever find a good man to spend my life with. That night God gave me a dream, a beautiful dream, I can still see it in my minds eye when I think about it, here is what I saw:
I was walking in a beautiful garden, the most magnificent garden I’d ever seen. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. There was a man walking next to me, holding my hand, I was unable to turn my head to see who he was, but I knew it was my future husband, I could feel the love he had for me and I could feel the love I had for him. We were walking on a cobbled path that wound its way through the garden. I kept stumbling and tripping over the cobblestones and every time I stumbled he’d steady me and catch me and keep me from falling. We walked for a long way like this, eventually we started to descend down a hill, and I could see the cobble path winding its way all the way down the hill and far in the distance at the bottom of the hill the cobble path came to an abrupt end directly under the hugest oak tree I’d ever seen in my l life. We kept walking, me stumbling down down down, towards the oak tree, as we got closer, I realized that there was a man standing under the tree, he had his back to us and was facing an artist easel. We kept moving towards him and eventually we got under the oak tree, as we arrived the man turned around to face us and he was holding a baby. He arranged “my husband” and I next to each other and then passed me the baby, it was then that I realized it was my family and the artist began to paint our family portrait….
Three months later I met Walter!
In hind sight I realize that the cobble path was my journey through infertility, I have the utmost faith and belief that I will have a baby one day. But there is one HUGE inaccuracy of this dream/vision. My husband did not walk down that cobbled path, he was dragged down it, he was forced in that direction by me! This morning I saw what this journey has done to him and I hate myself for it. I realize that he has sacrified so much more than me, sure I’ve been the one that has under gone all the surgeries and unpleasant procedures. But I did it willingly, I did it because I wanted to, I did it because I felt I had to, but my husband does not want this. He reminded me again this morning that he felt he was happy to live life without a child. But I feel he should not have to sacrifice that because of me. I know so many of my fellow infertiles have said this before, but sometimes I think he would be better off if he went and got himself a younger model. A less smashed up and damaged model, then he could have all the things he deserves in life.
I’m so sorry Hartjie!