Twilight

I feel like I have entered the Twilight Zone lately (and for you younger readers, that is nowhere near Forks, ok?)

Friday night went smoothly, with Mo joining a work friend for a baseball game while I caught up on some backl episodes of "Mad Men." He was home by nine, and off to bed we went. It was all "I love you's" and sweet kisses until either Fat Girl or Big Boy moved the wrong way and sliced a nail down my sunburned back.

I admit it, I yelled. And it wasn't particularly nice. But I yelled at he DOGS, people. So I was kind of taken aback when Mo started yelling at ME. It started innocently enough, with a "What's your problem?" but quickly turned into mutual "Fuck off"'s, of which I am not proud.

The thing is, something in me snapped. I was not going to sit silently while Mo called names, and so I returned each negative comment with one of my own. It was the most ridiculous game of back and forth I have seen since grade school. (You're an ass. No, you're an ass. And so on.)

Like I said, not my proudest moment. Still, I didn't expect Mo to come out and proclaim his desire for a divorce, given that moments before he was professing his undying love. And yet, that's exactly what he did. Multiple times. I knew he didn't mean it, and I tried telling him that, but he had backed himself into a corner. So I did what any self-respecting woman would do, called my best friend and went out and got drunk.

Or rather, that's what I should have done. Instead, I committed the ultimate marriage foul and I called my mommy. At midnight. And showed up on her doorstep bawling soon after.

I thank the stars that my mother is so forgiving. She loves me beyond reason, and I know she can't stand to see me and Mo fighting. She tries valiantly to support me without demonizing him. She knows I very well may decide to stay with him, and so she is careful not to cut that bond. Still, she has an outsiders perspective and I know that she knows Mo's Issues are not likely to change. I imagine it is incredibly difficult for her to watch me struggle, and yet to keep her opinions to herself and let me live my own life.

To cut a long story short, I vented for a couple hours then drove home. Mo was apologetic, as I knew he would be. We both said we didn't mean it, and we went to sleep. There were a few murmured apologies again the next morning, but for the most part we went about our weekend (including dinner with my parents Saturday night) as though nothing had happened. Like I said, Twlight Zone, folks.

I am not quite sure how I feel about this. I am trying desperately to establish boundaries and teach Mo how to disagree without it devolving into he mess it currently devolves into. I am not a therapist, nor any expert on these things. My primary methods of handling conflict involve either avoidance or direct confrontation, neither of which usually get me far. (And please, for the love of god, stop suggesting counseling. He won't go, and I have trouble finding one who either doesn't insist I leave him, or whose Christian subservience outlook depresses me. I know good counselors exist, I just haven't had much luck here in Podunk finding one. In truth, y'all are much more qualified than most I have seen.)

Still, it feels --odd?-- to be proclaiming divorce in one moment and love in another. That's not how marriages end, is it? Or maybe it is, and I am fooling myself into thinking that the possibility for a family is less than remote.

I did have an interesting conversation with my sister about it on Saturday. I told her that I was contemplating not telling anyone if we cycled again. That I felt a little bit judged, since all was not rosy on the marriage front. Who are we to be making a baby, after all?

Her response floored me. She told me that since she can remember, our whole lives, I have wanted children. That nothing in my life was more important to me, ever. It was my dream since we were toddlers. And she thinks that, no matter what happens with Mo, that is a dream I should still pursue. Maybe we will end up a happy family, maybe not. But she thinks I will be happier with children than without, no matter what.

I actually reached across he sushi bar and hugged my "hands off" sister at that point, because I felt like she actually got it. That thing I can't quite put into words, that reason why I keep trying to make things work out. Because my dream is not a fulfilling, adventurous marriage with a romantic partner. My dream is messy and squirmy and exhausting, but in the end completely worth it. I want children, first and foremost. And that's not a dream I can put off indefinitely.

Families are messy, and marriage even more so. I blog about it so that you all know that you're not the only ones. Sure, there are the annoyingly perfect couples out there (they are also the ones who get pregnant on their first IVF :-D), but we aren't them. Judge all you want, but I can contemplate a new life and an IVF cycle at the same time. Neither one is guaranteed to make me happy, but in the end? I've got to know that I did everything I could.

And so do you.

Wait and See

I don't know quite how he did it, but Mo has somehow wiggled his way out of the doghouse once again.

Please don't worry about offending me, dear readers. I know he's an ass, and he has definite Issues. It has been worse, I assure you.

Which, interestingly enough, makes it even harder to leave. Because I stayed before, when no one would have ever faulted me leaving. I stayed, for a million reasons, some good, some not. And how do you look at someone with whom you have quite literally been to hell and back with and leave them over what is comparatively minor?

All excuses, I know. He is who he is, and I will never change him. I can only change how I react to him. That is challenging enough, I can assure you. There are mitigating circumstances at play here (isn't there always?), some of which are being addressed and others that are being dutifully ignored. The truth is that I am horrifically indecisive, and I keep waiting for the decision to be made for me. For my path to become glaringly obvious. And while it may be obvious to you, dear readers, I waffle. Because it isn't all bad. In fact, a lot of the time it's pretty good. And one of the major Issues (Mo's depression) may finally, after ten years of cajoling, be treated. (He has begun meds for that and anxiety, both of which he desperately needs).

I hate being so vague, but once again I feel like his story is not my story to tell. So you are left with only one side of the conversation, and that side is murky at best.

All I can tell you is this: I am doing the best I can. And for right now that means continuing to play wait and see. I am not nearly the optimist I once was -- I know a magic cure does not exist. At the same time, I am not yet ready to completely close the door on this chapter of my life.

I am doing the best I can. And really, isn't that all any of us can do?

The One Where Jo Gets Angry - UPDATED

UPDATED AT THE BOTTOM.

Actually, angry doesn't begin to cover it. I am fuming, and the person I am most angry with is myself.

First, I apologize for my absence as of late. Mo whisked me away for a fabulous and fun- filled birthday weekend that involved copious amounts of alcohol, sex, and expensive gifts (not necessarily in that order.). It was a wonderful, if temporary, escape from reality.

Things felt good, really good, this week. We reconnected, I felt loved and appreciated. And that is exactly why, at this very moment, no one wants to have the misfortune of being within a ten-thousand foot radius of me.

Because where is my loving, attentive, and reformed husband right now? Damned if I know. I can make a pretty educated guess though, and it makes me want to blow a gasket.

Without going into too much detail (because lets be honest, I will probably forgive him at some point), let's just recap:

Mo and Jo get married. Mo and Jo want a baby. Mo and Jo can't have a baby, so Mo makes lots and lots of shitty decisions. Jo is too young to know any better, so she sticks around hoping Mo will change. Finally, at her wit's end, she issues The Ultimatum. Mo and Jo move far away and start over. Mo makes different shitty decisions. Jo decides to leave, but Mo convinces her to stay. Mo and Jo spend tens of thousands of dollars on IVF and conceive and miscarry three babies. Mo is alternately stupid and sweet, and Jo is torn between wanting to build the family she has always dreamed of and kicking her sorry-ass husband to the curb.

Have you followed all of that? Good. That just about brings us to the present, where Mo once again Fucks Up Royally, and then somehow convinces poor, naive, and optimistic Jo that he has learned his lesson and now fully appreciates the gem that she is and is turning over a new leaf.

And, then, predictably, Mo pulls another fast one and disappears for the weekend.

To be fair, I don't know for certain that he will be gone all weekend. I don't know that because he won't answer my calls or texts. What I do know is that he went out for a beer with the guys at five o clock, and I haven't heard from him since. Which means (since his phone is always glued to his hip) that he is ignoring me because he is doing Bad Things. Things he knows will piss me the fuck off, and so he does what all Total Assholes do and he avoids me for as long as possible. When he comes home (on Sunday, maybe Monday, if history is any clue), he will be contrite and full of apologies. He will assure me that he is Done with the Bad Things.

Until next weekend.

And I am sitting here typing this blog with my blood boiling because I knew he would fuck up sooner or later.

I just didn't expect it to be so soon.

(And, just to reassure my lovely readers, no I don't think he is cheating on me, and no he isn't doing anything illegal. There are many ways a man can Fuck Things Up that are perfectly legal and don't break any major vows. It still doesn't excuse his shitty behavior, or his complete lack of consideration for others.)

UPDATED TO ADD: Mo finally called me back at five in the morning to tell me that he was too drunk to drive home. He was very "What's the big deal?" and "Do you WANT me to get a DUI?" and "I can't believe you think so poorly of me." It is now noon, and he is still not answering texts or phone calls, nor is he home. I suppose there is little I can do at this point except give him enough rope to hang himself. Which, inevitably, he will. I honestly am disgusted with myself for allowing him to woo me once again, and to start thinking that things might actually be on track towards getting better. People seldom change, dear readers, and if you are waiting around hoping for someone you love to do so, I sincerely hope you are smarter than me and you have enough sense to realize that what you see is what you get, and probably always will be.

Time Keeps On Ticking....

Today is my birthday.

I am 31.

While I am still fairly young in the IF world, I feel incredibly,overwhelmingly, old. I have been trying to have a baby since I was 21. I have spent ten years of my life hoping, wishing, and praying for something that is still nothing but a figment of my imagination. While my head knows that I still have plenty of time, I am still equally convinced that my ovaries will shrivel up and die if I don't have a kid in the next five minutes. Whoever coined the phrase "biological clock" could not possibly have been a thirty-something-year-old woman. This isn't a clock my friends, it's a goddamned ticking time bomb.

Time seems to be running out for my dear husband as well. When we married, he was older and established in a sexy "now there's a real man" provider-for-my-children kind of way. Only the children never materialized, and now he is staring 42 in the face. And he is not too thrilled with what he sees. His dad died at 67, and so Mo feels like he has maybe 15-20 good years left. Which doesn't bode well when you are contemplating babies. Maybe it's a mid-life crisis thing, but he keeps on talking about moving to the beach, to Florida or California or even the Bahamas. He wants to enjoy the years he has left, and let's be honest: there is little that is enjoyable about IF, IVF, or miscarriage.

All that being said, I do still think we will pull one more fresh cycle out of our hats this summer. One last shot at a bio-baby. I fear, though, that my erstwhile husband will be officially D-O-N-E after that. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I will not be. I admire those women who are able to say "enough" and to get off the crazy train before losing all their marbles. But I also know me, and I know I will not be able to give up as long as there is the tiniest shot in hell that I can have the child I have wanted for so very long.

I didn't mean for this post to end up so melancholy. I have had a wonderful birthday, and I feel the love from all sides. My sister and my parents, my students, and Mo have all spoiled me terribly rotten. I know that I am incredibly lucky to have people who love me, healthy and alive and close by. I have a job that fulfills me and makes me feel like I am doing something worthwhile in the world. I have a lot, and not having a baby doesn't mean my life isn't full and rich and so much better than probably two-thirds of the planet's. I know all that, and I am beyond grateful for the many, many good things in my life.

But I would be lying if I said it was enough. It's not enough, and I feel selfish saying that, but it's true. I want it all, and I won't stop reaching for it until that ticking time bomb finally explodes.

Thank goodness I still have a few years until it does. ;-)