Guilty Pleasure

Has anyone else seen the show Parenthood lately? Lordy, I do love that show. I rarely watch it in the evenings, but rather I enjoy catching it on Hulu on rainy afternoons when the babes are napping. My brain knows that the show is beyond corny, but I just can't stop! I can honestly say that I have never watched an episode and NOT cried and cried. It's that cheesy and wonderful.

And despite the heightened drama that is the cornerstone of any show like this, there are frequently episodes that hit rather close to home. For example, in the past two shows one of the characters is dealing with infertility. I am always amazed at how quick my eyes are to well up whenever I watch a show that has infertility as a part of the storyline. Why does this happen? I am the incredibly joyful and blessed mother of two of the most wonderful little human beings on the planet. I love them so much it astounds me. So why the tears?

I can truthfully say that I have no regrets from our journey of becoming the family that we are today. Each and every experience has shaped me as a person, shaped my marriage, and shaped how I am a mother to my kids. But I think those years of infertility treatments (and subsequent failures) have left scars deep down where I don't see them every day or even every month... but they are there. And perhaps they will always be there, just like a physical scar. Because really, how can one endure the endless shots, nurses, pills, getting blood drawn every other day for weeks, procedures, more shots, hormones, the indignity of those damn stirrups... and all to see the empty bubble that was my uterus on the ultrasound screen every. single. time (10, to be exact).

The thing that struck me the most about the episode I just watched (mascara lines down my cheeks to prove it!) was the husband. He was perhaps not quite as emotional about it as the wife, but pretty darn close. I thought of my darling hubby and how he was the opposite. He gave me those horrible shots in the ass with a steady hand. He may have cried on his own, but I never knew it. All I knew was that he was there for every meltdown, every hormone-induced freak-out, every run to KFC when I was on bed rest, and he was steady. Calm. I knew without having to ask that he was going to take care of me for both my physical pain and my grief each time a cycle failed. I remember our final IVF so vividly, even though it was 5 years ago. We had actually received the news that the cycle had worked! Of course, things happened over the course of the next week that gave me cause for concern and definitely kept my hopes at the "cautiously optimistic" level, but I still was not truly prepared for that moment on the table when the doctor, nurse and I looked expectantly at the ultrasound screen, hoping to see a little blob with a heartbeat and instead saw nothing at all. I had a 30-mile drive home where I knew hubs was at home having lunch. I remember calling him pretty much hysterical yelling, "There was nothing there!" And when I arrived home he comforted me, now a complete sobbing mess, took me up to bed and handled all of the phone calls we would soon get from family members wanting to know how the scan went. I still can't believe he did that. Had to repeat over and over on the phone that no, the scan did not go well and yes, I was ok but didn't want to talk to anyone. I can honestly say I don't know anyone stronger than my husband.

So honey, here it is, perhaps definitely not said enough: you are my hero. My knight in shining armor, making my heart go pitty pat. We may lead rather mundane lives here in the 'burbs and your acts of heroism may not be as dramatic as in the TV shows, but know that they are noticed and appreciated.  Like when we were at someone's house and something broke leading L to say, "My Daddy could fix that. He can fix anything."

Married at 22 looking like babies, we got through college, grad school, a year apart, transfers to the middle of nowhere and then Chicago, infertility through all of that, baby #1 and baby #2, and now we're slogging through the land of mortgages, preschools, tantrums, diapers, yard work... scary stuff, man. But I have no fear. I've got my knight with me.