I sincerely do believe that Doc is the best husband in the world. He's caring, handsome, smart, funny, and an excellent skier. I love his type A personality and love that he kicks ass during Jeo.pardy. But, alas, there are moments when I want to just punch him...really, really hard. Yesterday night was just one of those moments.
I was already in a pissy mood. I blame it on the meds, but I think it's just everything. The build up of a year of trying to conceive and having to change my life for something that I thought would come so easy. Anyway, so one thing leads to another and our conversation goes like this:
Me: You know, sometimes I feel like you don't appreciate everything that I'm going through and all the stress.
Doc: Of course I do. I tell you thank you all the time.
Me: No, you don't.
Doc: Well, you don't know how much stress I'm under because of all this. It's been stressful on me, too. I feel like I can't be myself. I have to tiptoe around you.
Me: WHAT? (in my thoughts: Oh, no, he just did not say that...)
And then floor opened up and all hell broke loose. It was ugly.
At the end of it all, we made up, but we also decided that we could not go through another round of meds and IUI. We're going to IVF. Decision made. For our sanity and marriage and Doc's life, we are going directly to IVF.
Back from NZ
2 weeks ago