An ode to my quiet partner

Justin is the sock to my foot; closer fitting than a shoe, he envelops me. Throughout the beginning of our relationship (we started dating when I was 18), he listened patiently and scoffed at my self-diagnosed infertility. I waited his arbitrary seven years which he believed would deter divorce and we married. After fighting to have these babies for almost five years, we’ve got to see the best (and worst) of each other. We’ve been together over 13 years, which is certainly enough time to see each other’s faults. But let me tell you, the unwavering support person that he has grown into has been inspiring.

It’s hard for a man, I think, in an infertility journey to make things better. They don’t get enough credit- sure- but fully understanding the absolute hell that A woman’s body – MY body – goes through is impossible. When we first began, he reminded me of my continual rationalizations, helped to keep me sane as we struggled to get to our first egg retrieval. Then, when we found out, 15 minutes before leaving for my transfer on Labor Day 2017, that no embryos made it, he held me while I felt my whole world collapse.

When I wanted to do it again, he was there as we went through another egg retrieval and then went through months of experimentation with meds to do a frozen transfer, which failed. He gave me most of my intramuscular shots and listened when I couldn’t do anything but lament the situation. He cheered us on, even though I took pregnancy test after test, he kept the hope alive until achieving the negative beta. Then, a month later I told him I wanted to do 5 more back to back cycles, spend all of the money we had plus more. We were in the car on our way to pick up my car from getting its windows tinted. And he said, you’re the driver, let’s do it! He then reminded me of something he said to me before we married: I married you. I didn’t marry our future children and if they don’t come to fruition, then so be it. It’s hard to believe when you’re in the situation, so the reminder was nice.

The past two-three years have been incredibly hard, but ultimately, I think we’ve come out stronger. Now, I just have to get through the first three years with multiples – then they say the divorce rate goes down a bit. Good thing I got the crazy out early.

**not sure why I never posted this…written the week before the babies were born.**