Dear Mr. MLACS,
You are an a**hole. First of all, I “failed” the pregnancy test this morning and you didn’t say sh*t. Second of all, I had scheduled a dentist appointment for you and you b*tched out and didn’t go and forced me to make up an excuse for you.
Third, I called you after the dentist–in tears in the parking lot–and you didn’t pick up. Then you called at your leisure and asked me if I wanted to go shoot your stupid gun and I told you matter-of-factly that I was upset and today was not the best day for me to try to learn something new (particularly guns, which I have zero experience with and they freak me out).
And you said “You gotta get out of this funk”.
I said to you “I am entitled to be upset–which I warned you I would be if this happened. And furthermore I AM THE ONE who has to do this again, and I don’t want to”. Which is to say, that I am only doing this again in order to save money, because I don’t want us to pay for IVF.
And reading between the lines, I wouldn’t have to keep doing this IF YOU WERE HOME to try naturally. And you are actively making a choice to not change your schedule–and you know good and damn well that the ONLY reason I agreed to this job is because you let me believe that you would be home during my ovulatory period for AT LEAST a year. Yes, you informed me when you got your schedule that you would be home for all the holidays in the latter half of the month! “At least until 2015” you said “After that I can’t guarantee it won’t change”. Those were your words mother*cker.
And yet here I am, doing these frozen IUI’s all by my f*cking self while you run off to Canada and do your dream job. And I would have a job too or at least be in school, except that your schedule only brings you home for half the month and I need to be with my husband at least half of the month. And I’m always in the middle of a cycle, which we all know is damn near impossible to explain to a job and retain any kind of privacy. I’m already sick of this routine. And you are not even seriously looking for another job because YOU are comfortable where you are at. YOU don’t really care to change anything. YOU are not the one waiting at home.
YOU are not the one doing the drugs. YOU are not the one sacrificing your body, mind, and soul for this. YOU just get to run off to your important job and wake up every day and be the boss. YOU have a routine. YOU have a purpose. YOU have validation that you are appreciated and that you make a difference.
Whereas I am over here…my whole life revolves around my cycle. Obtaining drugs, doctors appointments, injections, etc. I have control over NOTHING. And every cycle as I inject myself I cringe because I know what’s coming. MISERY. It’s f*cking miserable. And how do I explain to my friends what is happening to me? Why I can’t go have a drink? Why I’m too tired to go to spin class? Why I’m too distraught to visit a baby? All I get are blank stares when I say “Well because we’re going through treatment”. The best they can muster is pity because they don’t have a clue what any of this is like. F*ck, for that matter neither do you…
YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, Mr. MLACS. You are blissfully ignorant to what kind of hell this is.
Because if you had a f*cking clue as to what this is like, then you would change your mother*cking schedule. OR, at the very least, what you could say is:
1. I know this is so hard for you–I know that you carry a heavy burden. I appreciate what you are doing.
2. I don’t expect you to keep doing this. I don’t want to see you continue to beat up your body this way. I understand that this is not good for you mentally or physically.
3. I understand that I AM MAKING A CHOICE here, to continue to do this job despite the fact that it is directly and undeniably affecting our ability to have a baby. I appreciate you supporting my career–because you understand that I love what I do and it’s NOT just about the money.
4. I understand that you getting on birth control in order for us to do this fresh IUI is NOT A LONG TERM SOLUTION. I am aware that it will f*ck up your cycle and that if (God forbid) it doesn’t work then it’s not something that we can continue to do, even if we wanted to–it’s a “one shot” deal.
5. I understand that you have done your best with these frozen IUI’s. If the next one doesn’t work then I am prepared to move on to IVF, because it is not fair for me to expect you to put off having children as a consequence of my work schedule being inflexible. Building a family with you is at least as important, if not MORE important, than furthering my career. I understand that I cannot take my money with me when I’m gone so I am prepared to spend what we need to spend to start a family. Without b*tching at you and acting like a martyr.
6. I love you and I respect the sacrifices you’ve made and are willing to make in order to create a home and a family with me.
Because Mr. MLACS, your maternity swimsuits were a sweet gesture. But what I need from you is a commitment that you are willing to go the distance with me. Today you opened your big fat mouth and said “Fine, lets stop. Just forget about it.” And I said “So are you saying you would live childless?” And you said “Yes!” And I said to you “Then get the divorce papers ready. Because Swear to God, on my Mother, if you mean that then I want a divorce.” And I meant that. That was a punk a** pussy thing to say. And obviously I’m not married to you for your money. I am married to you because you are the man I want to have a family with. I don’t stick around for your f*cking paycheck and your good company will never fill the space in my heart where a child should be. So put up, or shut up.
And don’t make yourself a victim. That sh*t is tired too. You said “You just want to beat up on me!” And no, actually, I wanted to have THIS conversation with you. And I have been very clear all along about what I want and until now I have not asked you to own your part in this–which is that you are not prepared to inconvenience your company in order to help me create our family. And you don’t want to dig in your pockets either (for IVF). You want to have your f*cking cake and eat it too–at this point it is all at my expense. And you don’t even want to thank me for putting up with this sh*t.
Look at your friends in your company–you told me your company has a 75% divorce rate, maybe higher.
Now, you think about what side of the statistic you want to fall on. I’m no bullsh*tter, so think fast.