The drive to the hospital from the clinic is the only thing that is truly blurry about that day. I remember trying to keep her calm while I was in total crisis mode. We went in and they started prepping my wife for surgery almost immediately. I remember that the prep staff didn't take us seriously that she does not do well with needles. They eventually got her plugged in and they took her to surgery. I then waited.
I have gone through a few trials in my life and I have done more than my fair share of crisis management, but never in all those experiences combined can I ever remember the amount of powerlessness that I felt. My partner who I am supposed to protect, honor, love, serve, etc. was wheeled away by strangers for emergency surgery. I was left in a lobby. I sat. I paced. I stared at the TV that was in the lobby. I walked the ground floor of that hospital. Eventually, I called my supervisor to let her know that we had made it to the hospital, that my wife was in surgery and to just do a check in. She assured me all was well. She then said that she had collected my work group and told them what had happened. She had told them we were pregnant. She told them of the loss. She told them of the surgery. I was shocked beyond words. All I could muster out was "[Supervisor] I really wish you wouldn't have done that." Her silence that followed acknowledged the potential mistake in the confidentiality violation. I hung up the phone.
*Before I proceed, I do want to acknowledge that the supervisor and I have made amends and it is all good. However, that took a bit of a process. I shall now continue on with the part without the process.*
I can only liken my state after hanging up the phone with my supervisor to the way Jack Nicholson was unraveling in the Overlook in the classic film The Shining. I was uttering half sentences and gesturing wildly while pacing back and forth through a hospital corridor. Livid is an understatement.
The last post mentioned that we were very quiet about who we talked to - hardly anyone knew of our ordeal. My mom and dad didn't know, but now my work colleagues (some of whom I didn't necessarily connect well with) knew before my parents. The whole department knew. They knew about our struggle. They knew of our family matters, our secret! They knew our intimate details. "Jack Nicholson arms" flapping and snapping...wildly. It's comical to look back at and I imagine if I was watching myself from another hospital couch I would have cracked up. But I was full of rage and devoid of humor.
Once I got through seeing quite a bit of red, I called the one colleague other than my boss who knew of our recent struggles, let's call him Karl. I had to hear it from someone else that everyone knew. He quietly confirmed that the office knew. I could tell he was pretty upset for me - I love that guy. Anyway, knowing our office was "touchy feely," I told Karl any plans of cards, balloons and/or flowers absolutely had to be cancelled (and I got the impression I stopped something from happening): why in the world would we want acknowledgement for something we didn't want others to know and something we would quite definitely never forget? Second, I asked him to ask another colleague who was pregnant to give us some distance.
When you are not pregnant and you want to be, everyone else is pregnant or has a child they want to show off. Our colleague was very preggers and it drove us nuts how much everyone was (seemingly) constantly talking about it. I asked our friend to make sure the pregnant colleague not contact us. Karl came through and was a major help through the next couple of days. At the moment, I thanked him and continued my pacing, but at this point I had a new problem to distract me from the emergency surgery: when my wife gets done with surgery, do I tell her that "everybody knows?"
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
That Day
Even now after coming to peace with what happened that day, the joy before it escapes me. On May 19, we realized that my lovely wife was pregnant after a second round of an IUI. Now, maybe it is because I knew not to get too excited in the first trimester or maybe it is selective recollection for my own mental health, but I just don't remember much of the two weeks that followed. I remember being excited, to some degree. I remember being cautious at times - we attended a wedding and I worried, for no reason, that she might forget and have something to drink. Specific memories elude me. Until that day.
We went in for an ultrasound on June 1st because we were about to move across country. The technician was seemingly at first having technical issues. And then she got quiet. We were eventually pulled back to our doctor's office for counseling. We were nervous but didn't know what to expect. We knew something was off from the technician's behavior. Our doctor then began to explain to us that the egg had implanted itself in the Fallopian Tube. I have a background in biology. I have, formally and informally, studied the human body. I taught a sex education class and, way before that, sat through many a health class that talked about pregnancy. I've also had extensive crisis management training - I am the guy you call on in my work to deal with shit when shit goes down. All of that mattered none in that moment. I was instantly a 10 year old. I had all these questions I didn't even know to ask and I was thinking, 'well, we can move it, right?' My wife, if she looked over at all, would probably have seen my poker face that which is my regular face that always keeps people guessing. Inside, I was screaming and begging and crying and trying to comprehend.
Then I snapped out of it. I stirred when I registered that the doctor said my wife was going to need immediate surgery as the tube could rupture and take her out as well. The egg was ectopic and couldn't be saved, but my wife was in jeopardy. We were going to have to drive to the hospital in another part of town to have emergency surgery and we needed to get there immediately.
The doctor left us to collect our thoughts. I took some time to take care of her and her fear and then I started to focus on tasks. I called our boss to let her know we were not coming in. It was our official last day of work and there was going to be a department meeting and then a party to follow to celebrate our (and a couple of others') moving on. As we were taking time here and there for hospital visits, our shared supervisor was in the loop of our current attempts at pregnancy. I informed her that we were (somewhat) successful, but that we were just told that we had to go into surgery. We weren't going to make the party. She said not to worry and for us to take care of ourselves. I remember a momentary lapse of control on my emotions - a very choked sob while taking a breath. I also clearly remember thinking to "keep it together until the surgery."
I then called my in-laws. We were very quiet and selective in whom we told just so that we didn't constantly get questions or check-ins, but we needed her family history and thus they knew that we were trying. They had to know the risk that was just revealed to us. I had to leave messages for them because there wasn't answer. We then wrapped up our business at the clinic and drove to the hospital.
We went in for an ultrasound on June 1st because we were about to move across country. The technician was seemingly at first having technical issues. And then she got quiet. We were eventually pulled back to our doctor's office for counseling. We were nervous but didn't know what to expect. We knew something was off from the technician's behavior. Our doctor then began to explain to us that the egg had implanted itself in the Fallopian Tube. I have a background in biology. I have, formally and informally, studied the human body. I taught a sex education class and, way before that, sat through many a health class that talked about pregnancy. I've also had extensive crisis management training - I am the guy you call on in my work to deal with shit when shit goes down. All of that mattered none in that moment. I was instantly a 10 year old. I had all these questions I didn't even know to ask and I was thinking, 'well, we can move it, right?' My wife, if she looked over at all, would probably have seen my poker face that which is my regular face that always keeps people guessing. Inside, I was screaming and begging and crying and trying to comprehend.
Then I snapped out of it. I stirred when I registered that the doctor said my wife was going to need immediate surgery as the tube could rupture and take her out as well. The egg was ectopic and couldn't be saved, but my wife was in jeopardy. We were going to have to drive to the hospital in another part of town to have emergency surgery and we needed to get there immediately.
The doctor left us to collect our thoughts. I took some time to take care of her and her fear and then I started to focus on tasks. I called our boss to let her know we were not coming in. It was our official last day of work and there was going to be a department meeting and then a party to follow to celebrate our (and a couple of others') moving on. As we were taking time here and there for hospital visits, our shared supervisor was in the loop of our current attempts at pregnancy. I informed her that we were (somewhat) successful, but that we were just told that we had to go into surgery. We weren't going to make the party. She said not to worry and for us to take care of ourselves. I remember a momentary lapse of control on my emotions - a very choked sob while taking a breath. I also clearly remember thinking to "keep it together until the surgery."
I then called my in-laws. We were very quiet and selective in whom we told just so that we didn't constantly get questions or check-ins, but we needed her family history and thus they knew that we were trying. They had to know the risk that was just revealed to us. I had to leave messages for them because there wasn't answer. We then wrapped up our business at the clinic and drove to the hospital.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Be Careful What You Don't Wish For.
When I was a teenager, I was terrified by babies, but not in the sense that some consider them creepy, little people with small (but strong) hands and unending portions of drool (no, seriously: I'm fine with them). As with most people in their preteen and teen years, I had a lot of angst. I grew up in a middle-class family and had very supportive parents, so I had everything to be upset about. I had friends, I had stuff: my life was so terrible! But then, at the beginning of the time of that developmental right of passage, some serious family issues went down involving my older brothers. To be fair, they were going through their own rights of passage into adulthood, but, as I looked up to them, their experiences and the fall-out around substance exploration shook me up a bunch.
With my brothers' misadventures and my parents trying so hard to understand and deal with their older sons, I was beginning my angst period already on shaky ground. I also would see my family members fight amongst each other, but I would never see them find solutions or work through their issues. I learned well from what I did not observe: I would get angry with people and situations, and I had no idea how to resolve those conflicts. My anger and frustration would build and build and I didn't have resolution. I would become a powder keg and eventually just explode. First, I started taking it out on other people, but eventually I targeted myself. I hit things. I hit myself. I was also a cutter. I eventually took to doing other risk-taking activity - not drugs or alcohol, mind you, thanks to watching my brothers - but silly physical stunt work. I put my body and life at risk a couple of times.
Because I didn't consciously "see" my family conflicts with no resolution and because I was teenaged angst me, I eventually saw myself as evil. I was doing crazy things and acting in crazy and hurting myself for no apparent reason! It is laughable now (what's up drama-filled boy?), but I did not see good in me then. Because of this, I feared small children, babies in particular, because I thought I would damage them purely by touching them. I would taint them...poison them into something broken. I saw myself as the living embodiment of Nine Inch Nails' song "Ruiner." So I avoided kids like the plague for their own protection.
Despite dating two women who would try to convince me that I was not evil, I held onto this perspective through most of my college career. It wasn't until I was in counseling toward the end of my undergraduate experience that I reflected and eventually recalled witnessing my Dad's damaged calm erupt into rage shortly after my grandmother died. He was on the phone with a crazy uncle (grandma's brother) and just lost it, punching the wall until the phone receiver in his hand crumbled.I wasn't evil...I was acting out behavior that I had learned! I didn't know how to resolve anger without lashing out. It also explained why I had managed to destroy 3 or 4 phones through these turbulent years.
After the revelation, I not only moved past the "I'm evil" portion of my life, but I also learned to manage my emotions. I also felt incredibly stupid for waving off family and friends wanting me to meet their kids/ babies. I regret those missed opportunities, especially since I'm purposely replicating that behavior now because a part of me secretly hates anyone who is pregnant or has a newborn baby. Externally, you might think I'm at peace, but a bit distant. Internally, I mourn for the child that could have been that my wife and I created naturally almost 2 years ago. That little bundle of precious cells was so eager to start life that it implanted on my wife's Fallopian tube. That little bundle of cells was surgically removed as no good was going to come of it or my wife as it was ectopic.
With my brothers' misadventures and my parents trying so hard to understand and deal with their older sons, I was beginning my angst period already on shaky ground. I also would see my family members fight amongst each other, but I would never see them find solutions or work through their issues. I learned well from what I did not observe: I would get angry with people and situations, and I had no idea how to resolve those conflicts. My anger and frustration would build and build and I didn't have resolution. I would become a powder keg and eventually just explode. First, I started taking it out on other people, but eventually I targeted myself. I hit things. I hit myself. I was also a cutter. I eventually took to doing other risk-taking activity - not drugs or alcohol, mind you, thanks to watching my brothers - but silly physical stunt work. I put my body and life at risk a couple of times.
Because I didn't consciously "see" my family conflicts with no resolution and because I was teenaged angst me, I eventually saw myself as evil. I was doing crazy things and acting in crazy and hurting myself for no apparent reason! It is laughable now (what's up drama-filled boy?), but I did not see good in me then. Because of this, I feared small children, babies in particular, because I thought I would damage them purely by touching them. I would taint them...poison them into something broken. I saw myself as the living embodiment of Nine Inch Nails' song "Ruiner." So I avoided kids like the plague for their own protection.
Despite dating two women who would try to convince me that I was not evil, I held onto this perspective through most of my college career. It wasn't until I was in counseling toward the end of my undergraduate experience that I reflected and eventually recalled witnessing my Dad's damaged calm erupt into rage shortly after my grandmother died. He was on the phone with a crazy uncle (grandma's brother) and just lost it, punching the wall until the phone receiver in his hand crumbled.I wasn't evil...I was acting out behavior that I had learned! I didn't know how to resolve anger without lashing out. It also explained why I had managed to destroy 3 or 4 phones through these turbulent years.
After the revelation, I not only moved past the "I'm evil" portion of my life, but I also learned to manage my emotions. I also felt incredibly stupid for waving off family and friends wanting me to meet their kids/ babies. I regret those missed opportunities, especially since I'm purposely replicating that behavior now because a part of me secretly hates anyone who is pregnant or has a newborn baby. Externally, you might think I'm at peace, but a bit distant. Internally, I mourn for the child that could have been that my wife and I created naturally almost 2 years ago. That little bundle of precious cells was so eager to start life that it implanted on my wife's Fallopian tube. That little bundle of cells was surgically removed as no good was going to come of it or my wife as it was ectopic.
Monday, March 4, 2013
This Story Wants a Happy Ending
This story wants a happy ending. As does my wife. My parents. Her parents. But truth be told, I am starting this journey with no idea as to where it is going to lead any of us. I'm starting this for the need to work through and process one of the major roadblocks in my life. I'm doing this to stay sane and somewhat healthy. I'm also doing this with the hope to help others. I'm not sure anything like this exists or what format it may exist in, but I've started this on my own without influence from others. As it is, any similarities are coincidental - this is my story and the story of the family that I want to exist. I'm writing this because at this moment, my wife and I can't have the one thing we want beyond anything else in the universe - a child of our own flesh and blood.
We've been trying to have a kid for years. The PG (OK, maybe PG-13) details will come in time, but over the years I have experienced a spectrum of emotions that were at so many times crippling. I want people to know what we're going through and I want men in my position to know that they are not alone in their feelings of helplessness and frustration. So I will be writing about our journey, mostly from my perspective. Just like my own thoughts, we'll be jumping around from the now, to the then, and there and back again. The spectrum of emotions will be a wide range and gallows humor is sure to make a presence from time to time. Again, I have no idea where this is going to take me, but you are welcome to come along as I want to share the journey with you.
We've been trying to have a kid for years. The PG (OK, maybe PG-13) details will come in time, but over the years I have experienced a spectrum of emotions that were at so many times crippling. I want people to know what we're going through and I want men in my position to know that they are not alone in their feelings of helplessness and frustration. So I will be writing about our journey, mostly from my perspective. Just like my own thoughts, we'll be jumping around from the now, to the then, and there and back again. The spectrum of emotions will be a wide range and gallows humor is sure to make a presence from time to time. Again, I have no idea where this is going to take me, but you are welcome to come along as I want to share the journey with you.
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