oh baby

As I mentioned in my oh brother post, 

"When I was a sophomore in college, completely living on loans and buried in schoolwork, I got the one and only letter I received from (my brother). He was in prison and asking for $100. My then-pregnant 18-yr-old sister got the same letter. After that, I stopped talking to my brother and started refusing to talk to my mom about him as if he has been wronged by the system."

This is still the case, with one exception. On February 14th, I got a text from my mother telling me that my brother was released from prison that day after being there so long that he's never met my husband. I was not expecting that; it wasn't even a tad bit on my radar. Apparently, it was well-known in my family that this was going to be his release date, but because it was known I didn't want to talk about my brother, nobody told me. (Ironic, isn't it? It seems like the one time I draw a line and it's respected, I wish it wasn't. At least when it comes to that little nugget of information.)

Apparently, immediately after his release from prison, the mother of his child took back up with him. March 22nd, and she's pregnant. As if my brother's release from prison wasn't difficult enough for me. He immediately become yet another person flaunting how easy it is to make babies. Well, easy for some people, at least.

As I mentioned  a couple posts ago, my husband had some testing done to begin looking further into our fertility issues. The results came back: not great, but not bad enough to even take any kind of medication. There were a couple things worth looking into more, so they are going to run more tests...including what I imagine must be one of the most uncomfortable ultrasounds ever.

Somehow, this was absolutely devastating for me. I finally realized that I had never really believed that I was the trouble here; I chose to completely believe he was the problem. When I told him that, he said the same thing -- that he had just assumed that I was the problem and there wasn't anything wrong with him. We laughed about how that seems like something that should be in a psychology textbook -- people, when given a choice, choosing to believe that they are perfectly fine and that the other person isn't, even in a situation that clearly takes both people to be healthy.

So, now, 10 months or so after my initial doctor visit, it is my turn again. I haven't been able to bring myself to make the appointment yet, much to my husband's dismay. He told me that it hurts his feelings and makes him feel as if that I'm never going to go to the doctor, but I asked him to remember that I made the initial step to make an appointment for myself about a year ago now, and that I just need a little bit of time to get my head on straight. 

It feels like a lot to ask, but I know now that I have to understand that whatever we learn about our problems on this fertility fact-finding mission, it may turn out that I am the problem. And if I am the problem, hormone therapy and IVF -- to me, these are the two scariest beasts of this whole mess, even above the possibility of hearing that adoption will be our only way to parenthood -- may be in the not-so-distant future. 

I told my husband this, and his response was: "I will never ask you to do anything to your body you don't want to. I just see this as figuring out what is wrong."

I responded: "That's sweet, but that is to say, if we're in a stage where it seems as if the only thing between you and your natural-born children is me saying no to hormone shots or IVF, that you'll just be okay with it? Because if I were in your shoes in that situation, I think I would be incredibly resentful."

Him: "Well, when you put it that way, it does sound kind of bad. But, nevermind that, one thing at a time."

This is no longer a fact-finding mission for me. It can't be. Because I may be heading directly towards procedures whose side effects absolutely terrify me, or a possibility of blowing up my relationship by refusing them.