It’s My Fault We Can’t Have Another Baby

I’ve been putting off writing this post. In part because it’s really personal, but mostly because I feel like someone has taken a proverbial sledgehammer to my masculinity, Gallagher-style.

I told you all that MJ and I began looking into IVF following our inability to either get pregnant or sustain a pregnancy since Will was born. With all the trouble we’ve had both before Will’s birth and afterwards, I kind of just figured if there was a medical problem, it would have something to do with MJ. Don’t get me wrong, that’s not me blaming her or being mad at her. I was just thinking of all the shit and procedures she’s had to endure, and logically it stood to reason something had happened in one of those surgeries that caused a problem with our ability to conceive.

I went in for what I thought was a routine specimen check. But it turns out, I’m the problem.

I won’t bore you with all things sperm morphology-related. Even I’m creeped out talking about it and it’s my baby batter. But I do think it’s important to talk about how this whole thing made me feel, because I know for a fact it’s something men in this situation struggle with, and putting it all on the table is the best way to deal with it.

First of all, it helps if you have a doctor who isn’t an inadvertently offensive ass clown. I understand they deal with this stuff all day and they want to move quickly so they can help. I get it. But it doesn’t matter how often you’ve broken bad news to someone, because it’s likely the first time they’re hearing it and dealing with the flood of emotions. So, in the future, you might want to avoid sounding like a condescending jerkoff while explaining the problem as you would to a small child.

“Well, basically the shape of your sperm is a little off and they’re confused. Instead of swimming to the goal — which is the egg — they’re off running around in circles some place they’re not supposed to be. So all we’re gonna do is make sure the best ones are in the right place at the right time.”

Golly gee Capt. Kangaroo, thank you for that wonderful explanation. Granted, I didn’t go to medical school, but I’m sure even my feeble mind could’ve handled a slightly more comprehensive explanation. But hey, not only did you talk down to me, I also feel like shit about myself. About my manhood. About the very thing that makes me a man and allows me to reproduce. Now for the rest of my life I can rest easy, knowing my swimmers are zombified, miniature versions of the 3 Stooges. Moe, Larry, and Curly smacking each other around over in the corner like a bunch of drunken frat boys.

But that was nothing compared to the immediate flood of pure shame I felt. Women have to do EVERYTHING during pregnancy. Her egg inside her body is fertilized, and she goes on to literally house and shelter the baby for nine months. My only job — the only early role I have to play — is to (literally) plant the seed. That’s it. And now, I’m not even able to do that.

Unfortunately, things got even worse when we got in the car. Because my wife is not a man, she saw no reason for me to be upset, nevermind completely devastated. So instead of being understanding, she was pissed that I was pissed. Ladies, I know it’s probably hard to understand. But if your guy is anything like me, he feels worthless and emasculated. Biologically speaking, men are put on this earth to spread their seed and procreate. So when a doctor sits there and tells you something has gone haywire with your primordial ooze, it’s a blow to our caveman DNA. We don’t feel like men. And so we pout.

And then we get ridiculous. Or at least I did.┬áBecause I was hurting, I felt like lashing out. And given the news I just received — which involved learning that I have a roughly 2% chance of successfully conceiving a child, my mind stupidly wandered to (what I believe to be) one of the biggest and most irrational fears fathers have.

“Since we know I’m now a man in name only, is Will really even mine?”

There are lots of questions you shouldn’t ask your wife. “Are you really wearing that?” “Have you put on weight?” “Do you realize you’re starting to act just like your mother?” I wish I had asked one, or even all, of those stupid questions. But instead, I vaulted myself right to the top of Asshole Mountain by asking my wife if she cheated on me, was impregnated with another man’s baby, and lied to me about it for 4.5 years. Yeah…I’m THAT guy.

To her credit, MJ remained pretty calm. And then she pointed out the silver lining that should’ve been completely obvious to me the moment I heard the news.

Will. My sweet, healthy, fantastic, perfect son. Made even more perfect by the fact that it’s a minor miracle we could even have him. Against some truly staggering odds we didn’t even know we were facing, we got the lucky break of a lifetime and were able to conceive a healthy child without IVF.

I immediately felt very sheepish and selfish. How many couples out there have been trying — either with or without IVF — for years with nothing to show for it? I can’t even imagine wanting a child so badly, trying so hard for so long, and enduring heartbreak after heartbreak. I can’t fathom walking by an empty nursery that’s been set up for years, just waiting for a brand new boy or girl to occupy it. Sure MJ and I have dealt with our share of rough times, but we have Will. Sweet Will, who constantly brightens our lives and gives us purpose. Even when he’s being a shit I’m still beyond thankful I have him. And now that I know he’s a longshot baby, I appreciate him even more.

To be honest, I still feel like half a man. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I feel like all of this struggle is my fault, and I feel incredibly guilty for being the cause of our inability to complete our family. Is that ridiculous? Of course. If the tables were turned and something was physically wrong with MJ, there’s NO WAY I’d ever blame her. It wouldn’t even cross my mind. And she doesn’t blame me either, but that doesn’t stop me from blaming myself.

I don’t really have any advice for the guys going through a similar situation. In fact, I could probably use some. All I can say is there’s a bunch of us out there and we’re probably feeling the same way. So let’s rest easy in the knowledge that we’re all being unnecessarily stupid and hard on ourselves together.

Next up, to see if our insurance will cover all of this, and what type of IVF we’re eligible for. Stay tuned.

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13 thoughts on “It’s My Fault We Can’t Have Another Baby

  1. I can’t imagine the struggle of having to go through that. But I definitely know that you are not alone. I know many of my friends who have gone through IVF. I hope for the best for you and MJ in your chances to have another baby, no matter how that baby comes to you guys.

  2. Infertility is not an easy topic. I’m glad to hear it from the guy’s perspective… As I know all too well what the women’s side of it feels like. We both have been lucky to have awesome healthy boys… & we can be happy for that…

  3. My daughter is 15 now, but I still feel your pain. After failing to conceive a second time we went in for the usual round of checks, only to find we both had problems. My husband got a similar diagnosis to you, slow swimmers, lots of deformed ones, that sort of thing. I had a hormonal imbalance which meant I may never be really ovulating. How did we get our 15 year old? Sheer luck, crazy odds, but it never happened again for us.
    Every couple has their own journey, and we ended up trying some of the drugs, some of the procedures. But I had a line I wasn’t willing to cross, partly because I’d always been interested in fostercare and adoption. We did end up having a second child through adoption, but our kids are almost a decade apart. And in between was a lot of heartache (fostering a child we had to give back, false hopes).
    Like the pain of labor though, a lot of that goes away when it’s all over. I felt we “needed” another child, and once she was ours, I never looked back. The pain is just a memory now, like remembering labor from our first, or the pain of your first heartbreak. Is our family complicated? Yes! Open adoption is hard. But so was infertility.
    The good news, really the great news, for you guys, is that it’s just one thing that’s off, not a laundry list. Two percent is doable, Will is living proof. Surely you’ve had sex more than a 100 times, you can do it again. And I believe the odds on IUI are pretty good, and it’s way less expensive than IVF. Just get those guys in the right place, they aren’t good with directions. Then again, a lot of guys aren’t.

  4. just wanted to say <3 to you guys…wish there was better news-I'll be hoping and sending good vibes to the "fertility gods".

  5. Beautifully written post. I was one of the early IVF pioneers back in the 80’s. After many years of failure, I had my daughter. After many more, I had my hysterectomy. This is tough stuff. At 32, the book was closed forever for me, all of my internal female organs were gone, and I had to figure out what this meant for my femininity. So, in some ways, I can relate. I talked a lot about it. I wrote a lot about it. I am at peace. Recently I took my daughter to meet the “other man” who helped create her–the brand new young doctor at Boston IVF who is now the head of the department. My daughter was writing a paper about IVF and being one of those first test tube babies. When we walked through Boston IVF, everyone smiled at my daughter, and came up to talk to her. We finally entered my former doctor’s office and he smiled at me and said, “You haven’t changed a bit.” Then he looked at my daughter and said, “But you have. The last time I saw you you were tinier than the head of a pin!” I wish you all the best with this journey. I know it is not easy, emotionally or physically. I, and you, and all the men and women with infertility are more than our reproductive abilities, and perhaps, especially, despite them.

  6. Hey, love to you and MJ. You are both right though. Will is pretty great and no matter what, you guys made that amazing little boy! I’m with Meri – sending good vibes to the fertility gods!

  7. I think MJ should look at it this way. If she were told that she wasn’t ovulating normally, or that her eggs weren’t coming down the tubes properly because they’re shaped funny and not strong enough to get to the uterus by themselves (yes, this happens) would she be upset? Feel less like a woman, because it’s her job to be able to have fertile eggs in the proper spot at a certain time in order to conceive? Would she be pissed if you blew that off as “no big deal?” I think she’s being a little insensitive on that part. I’m very sorry if I sound disrespectful to MJ. I don’t mean to be, I’m just trying to give you and her the other side’s perspective that maybe she’s just not thinking about because it’s not her that’s having the issue.

    I hope you can both get through this, and hopefully there will be another little one running around soon. Good luck and best wishes.

  8. I applaud you for having the courage to talk about this. I went through IVF with my husband and we were lucky on our first try. Our first child came with a handshake and a nod, no issues. It was after baby 1 that we learned his swimmers weren’t strong. IVF did the trick. But my H felt incredibly emasculated and it was hard for me to grasp. Long story short – he pulled away, had an affair and now we’re getting a divorce (more to it than that – always is). I feel the IVF experience and the inability of not discussing feelings properly hurt our marriage. Do couples counseling if you can around IVF. The more people realize it’s a twofer – a team – and guys, you need to talk about your feelings – the better. I wish your family the best of luck and lots of love.

  9. You’ve made the topic so easy to accept and understand despite its magnitude and un-ignorable impact…what touched me most is that you’re really stressed up about not having another little one; I didn’t think it’s something that can hurt a man this deep…we haven’t had issues, we got the most beautiful boy at first try but I guess men are just different..separated, he hasn’t seen his boy in over 6months and doesn’t give a *care* about it…it’s so sad and disheartening to know there are men out there who’re genuinely dying to have his place, just to have a chance at another little child…Good luck and many prayers to you and MJ

  10. Hi me and my precious fiance have been tryin to concieve for 7 years we are both only young 25 we have had 1 round of icsi and its just failed i am devastaded fill empty what is going on we had 1 brilliant embryo replaced my partner ovulates fine but my sperm is slow i pray that the second one works has anyone else on here been in my citrowation cheers

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