So, yesterday we just got the results of Emily’s blood
test back, and it’s official. IVF attempt #2 was not successful.
The feelings are somewhat similar but yet somewhat
different. There was much more bitterness for the first failure but this time
round, I don’t have bitterness, only a whole lot of sadness.
Dr. Surinder (who has been an Angel throughout this
process) comforted Emily by explaining the 3 Stages of the Grief Reaction
(which is similar to losing a loved one). Stage 1: Initial shock from the news;
Stage 2: Blame and justification for said event; Stage 3: Acceptance of event
and sadness. We’ll need to get past it in whatever way we can, however long it
takes, and move forward.
There is however, an unspoken aspect of this entire
process – my part in all this. I have financed the whole thing, I have
supported Emily and I sacrificed my time and more money, and what I’ve gotten
in return is abuse from a wife with a neuro-chemically altered state of mind.
She’s the holy vessel, yes. But for the love of fucking God don’t downplay the
role of the Partner/Husband in this.
When the dust settles, am I not as sad? The only difference is
that I cannot allow myself to wallow because bills need to be paid. I need to
move the fuck on. But I get no comfort. I get no hugs. I get no words of
encouragement.
None at all. I’m literally
all alone. The silence is fucking deafening.
