The Love/Hate Relationship

Really, I didn't expect so much support and such thoughtful responses to my last post.  It was one of those I wrote initially just for me, to sort out my feelings.  I didn't intend to post it.  I read and re-read the last line and debated whether or not I wanted to put that out there, whether or not you would understand.

And you did.

To clarify, I don't HATE my husband.

Really, in spite of everything, I love the man he is, inside.

I do, however, hate a lot of other things.

I HATE some of the choices he makes.

I HATE having to be the responsible one.

I HATE feeling limited in what I share with others, feeling as though I have to "hide" behind a mask of some sort.  I HATE not being able to be honest about what is really going on with us.

I HATE infertility and the strain it has put on our marriage.

I HATE feeling like I may one day regret the choices I'm making now.

I HATE feeling out of control, unable to make the things that I want to happen, happen.

I will be perfectly honest: there are times when I feel hate toward our situation, our circumstances, even toward Mo.  But along with that hate is a tenderness and a feeling of camaraderie that we have been through so much together.  No one on this earth understands him like I do; similarly, no one on this earth understands my pain like he does.  And the feelings of hate that I harbor, deep inside me, don't scare me as much as their opposite: indifference.  When I start not caring about the choices that Mo is making, then I will know that we are in real trouble.

When we were in counseling several years ago, at the height of Mo's depression and bad-behavior, my mother told me that I would KNOW when I had done everything I could, and that I couldn't walk away until I had.  She was right.  I've gotten very close to walking away since then.  This move was my last, my most desperate, attempt to save myself, save Mo, and save my marriage.

And it's worked.  For the most part.

I HATE having to attach that qualifier, but it's there.  With the exception of this weekend, Mo has made giant strides towards returning to that man I met 9 years ago.  The man I saw as the father of my children, the man who wanted everything that I wanted out of life, whose desire for a family matched mine.  He is there, even though I can't see him right now, hidden in his grief and fear for what the future holds.

I have a very simple plan of action, friends.  I intend to......

DO NOTHING.

Yes,  you read that right.  I can't explain how or why I know that is the right course of action, but I'm confident in it.  Remember how I said that I'd found some peace during our trip?  Though short-lived, I did, and it has stayed with me.  I left the hotel room one evening while Mo was sleeping and drove out to the beach.  As I sat on the sand, quiet and alone, without any distractions, I tried hard to listen.  I'm not sure who or what I was listening for, but I felt the need to do so.  And, somewhere inside me, there was a small voice.  I'm not claiming it was God, for I'm still not even sure he exists.  Maybe it was only me.  But there's wisdom in that, too, I suppose.  "Do nothing," I heard.  "Do nothing."  I thought then that was the answer to my fertility conundrum, but perhaps it had nothing to do with that either.   It appealed to me, though, and I left feeling that maybe doing nothing IS the best course of action right now.

So, I'm going with it.  It's totally out of character for me, but what I've been doing isn't working either.  And that's not to say I won't change my mind later, or be spurred to action in a few days/weeks/months.  Nor does it mean I'm going to give up my fight.  It does, however, mean I'm not going to explode upon my husband once he awakes, like I normally would.  It means that I'm tabling any fertility discussions (adoption or otherwise) for the forseeable future.  It means I'm not making ANY big decisions right now.

I'm simply going to be quiet, and wait, and see what happens.