The Baggage we Bring to the Island: Part 1

Like father, like son...

In most families, it goes something like this:

"I see Xavier got your throwing arm!" Like father, like son!

"Aidan looks like quite a character, just like his dad!" Like father, like son!

"Caleb seems good with the ladies, too!" Like father, like son!

In our family, the phrase takes on a slightly different connotation. My mother-in-law has a painfully vivid recollection of a moment driving home from the doctor, after my father-in-law was diagnosed with severe chronic depression, where she hoped beyond hope that her sons would never have to know that same anguish. She has an equally vivid memory of a similar wish that her sons would never have to experience the social stigma and myriad of complications (emotional and otherwise) that accompany male factor infertility.

Those particular wishes were left unfulfilled. God had a different plan, fate if you will, that only years later came into focus. Sometimes she apologizes to me for the genetic cards my husband (and I through marriage) was dealt. Having experienced both depression and MFI first hand, she wouldn't wish it on anyone, least of all her own son. Having only begun to walk a few steps in her shoes, I couldn't agree more.

But there's more to it than that. What I already know from the years we've spent battling my husband's depression is that sometimes the depression takes everything you've got. It sucks us dry and leaves us marooned on the shores of a desert island. Sometimes he forgets that we're together on the island and that's just one of the many reasons it's so painful. But, when we find each other again and are there together, battling the endless baking sun and the battering waves, we're okay....eventually we make it back to the mainland, and we're stronger for it. Much, much stronger. Infertility is every bit the same. And, just like my mother-in-law, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. But, I know that we'll be better for it. We'll be a stronger couple, "better" parents, and a more grateful family.

It's also true that genetics isn't the only thing that determines our fate. Personality plays a role, too. When we received our first SA results (via a phone call to me from my OB/GYN), I was devastated. But, I was told that I had to survive on the island by myself for awhile. From their past experience, both the nurse and my mother-in-law told me not to tell my husband. "Let it come from the doctor," they said, "He'll take it better."

When my father-in-law was given similar news in the late 1970s, the urologist used the "s-word": sterile. Furthermore, they were also told that they would never have biological children. Social stigma and ego proved to be too much. He was beyond livid, but over time that anger transitioned into his first diagnosed chronic depression episode. I was warned to expect a similar reaction, though it would be far from our first experience with depression.

But, this was not like father, like son.

My husband is remarkably okay with our MFI because we have a plan. I'm grateful for his calm and for the fact that he does not tie his sperm count, motility and morphology to his own self-worth. At the same time, it turns the tables a bit. I'm left as the one struggling to find the other on the marooned island. Such emotional extremes are hard to process...how can he feel as strongly about starting our family as I do when remains so even keel about it? But, I know that he shows his concern and caring by agreeing to the SA so early, by going to the specialists, by being my shoulder to cry on and never judging my emotions.

What I heard at the urologist appointment this week was that our odds of needing ART to get pregnant are extremely high. I expected to hear that, but it was (and is) still jarring. It still unnerves me and causes me to mourn the loss of the "quick and easy" conception that so many others around me are experiencing.

What my husband heard was that we can and will get pregnant, it’s just a matter of how. And, that's all he needed to hear. I'm grateful that his perspective is often my shelter on the island...that what depresses him, doesn't me and that what depresses me, doesn't him.

Fate and genetics. They don't live in isolation. I still believe that God only gives us what he knows we can handle. As it turns out, we were given some genetic issues to overcome. But, we were also given the perfectly balanced personalities to weather the island storm until we can overcome them. The irony is not lost on me...and I'm grateful.

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Thanks to Mel for writing her post "I Watched Funny People and What I Learned about MFI" about the unique kinds of baggage that accompany an MFI diagnosis. I've appreciated the many responses left by others experiencing the same baggage. Please head over to read her post and the insightful responses!

Part 2 will explain why I (we) choose to talk about our journey through depression and MFI when so many others do not. The stigma that goes along with talking about MFI is another piece of luggage to add to the pile.