I, Me, We?

I said in an earlier post about how I was using the term I despite referring to how it is my husband and I trying (and failing) to conceive. At the time I explained it as it’s because I’m the one writing.

That’s not quite the case.

Upon deeper reflection I’ve uncovered my true reasons for why I say I. Because it is me. Yes, we can’t seem to conceive, but I see that as my fault. Yes, we are being tested emotionally and perhaps physically, but it’s me who actually has the medical tests. It’s me that actually suffers with the hormones (although he does suffer from my subsequent moods).

I’m by no means belittling him in all of this, but my husband’s one of those men that rarely talks. And I don’t just mean about feelings, it’s opening his mouth to do anything but breathe. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child so used to amuse myself by talking to myself a lot. I love to talk. I found a perfect partner who hates talking. Because of this, he doesn’t talk about what we as a couple are going through. He doesn’t need to.

My stomach still feels a bit tender from the laparoscopy almost two weeks ago, but the only real problem is that I can’t sleep how I like to. Neither can my husband. He’s scared to throw his arm around me in the night and land on my poor belly button. I’ve felt a severe lack of closeness with him and I know he’s felt it, too. He doesn’t need to tell me.

I know he misses cuddling me at the moment. I know he hates “day one” just as much as I do (and not just because I take it all out on him). I know he worries that it’s all his fault. I know he hates that it’s me that had those tests, the pain and the fear of the hospital, and that he would do anything to have been able to do it all for me.

I consider that I fail every month, just as I passed the tests. Yes, it’s we as a couple that fail to manage to conceive, but it’s me. It is I. Maybe it is as simple as this blog is mine and that I am the storyteller of the journey. Or that I do see it as my fault, my pain and what happens to me. I am strongly in the belief that my husband could have children with anyone; it’s me that is the problem. He thinks the opposite.

In reality, who knows?

So until anything becomes clearer, blogs linked to my/we/our attempts at trying to conceive shall remain muddled with the pronouns.

~ Persephone M

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