But for real, I’m sickers. For some reason I felt well enough in the shower to delude myself into thinking that I should come to work anyway. Bad plan. I am way too sick. I think when your fever gives you chills in an 80 degree office (don’t ask, cheap boss), you’re too sick to be at work. I really want to call G and have him come get me, but I can’t.
Not because he can’t or won’t. Because I’m to prideful. See we’ve been fighting again. Infertility is taking a toll on us. G is the hold it in and blow up about something else type and I’m the let’s talk it out type. On Sunday I wanted to talk, he wanted to blow up. The problem with that is that he doesn’t see this from my side AT ALL.
The specific argument was regarding surrogacy. At one point my Sister was going to carry for us, using her eggs & good ol’ fashioned turkey baster IUI’s. Obviously, NOT my first choice, but it would be as close to a biological child as we could get without IVF. I would be able to go to the pre-natal appointments and we would find a way to be OK with it. Of course, this was before my sister lost her f’ing mind and I found out how she treated her body while pregnant. So, anyway, flash forward five years, we’re back to talking about surrogacy. Because my body is failing him and failing our children. Because I am broken. He’s captain super sperm, there’s nothing stopping his gene pool from continuing, except his choice to remain married to me.
So, we’re discussing surrogacy, because another friend has offered to carry and donate eggs if needed. Very sweet girl. Very sweet offer. Just one, I’m not ready to consider. For the same reasons I’m not ready to consider adoption. I’m not ready to give up on me. But, my husband, it would seem, is.
He stated that in taking this friend up on her offer, “at least his part would be there.” Now, I’m sure he didn’t mean it the way I took it. I’m sure he wasn’t saying “because that’s the part that’s important.” I know he didn’t mean “just because you’re a genetic dead end, doesn’t mean I have to be.” But, that is what I heard. That is what broke my heart.
Naturally, I ran to my mother and cried for four hours and refused to take his calls. I saw no other option. She defended him endlessly, and reassured that of course he didn’t mean the things I was thinking, he was just a man and had no idea how badly he’d hurt me. (G & my Mother are in love with each other)
So, back to today. I’m sick. Realistically, too sick to drive. With a spiking fever (alternating chills and sweats) and a sore throat. All I want is for my hubs to come rescue me. To love me enough to come take care of me, but my heart is broken, and I’m too prideful to call and ask.