No knife sharpening here. What I will do is share a personal story though, something we don’t have enough of in these gender generalized threads.
My ex and I struggled for years through infertility. 7 years to be exact. It’s one of those experiences you just can’t fully understand unless you’ve lived it. I’m not even sure how to describe the soul crushing powerlessness I’d feel month after month, as my then wife would cry her heart out when she discovered yet another month, another missed opportunity to become the mother she always wanted to be. As months turned into years, her tears faded, her resentment began to build.
Those around us were building their families. Every month there was news of friends expecting or babies born. With every new life brought in around us, another cut to my ex’s heart. We had explored and taken every avenue we could find, hoping that someone had the fix for our struggles, nothing worked. Which only fueled my ex’s feelings of inadequacies as a woman (not my words, hers). She began isolating herself from her friends. Their well intentioned, misinformed, inconsiderate comments were too much for her to take. Before long, she couldn’t even look at me without disgust.
Make no mistake, I treasured my ex. Thought the world of her, did all I honestly and sincerely knew to do in the situation we were in. I was supportive, I was also foolishly selfless. I gave as much as I could. I hoped and prayed that someone, anyone would find the miracle we needed or tell my ex a definitive “you can’t get pregnant”. So that she could finally get the closure she needed so much. That day never came.
Times were tough for us. We couldn’t speak much in that sixth year of infertility. She harboured so much resentment towards me and I was so emotionally drained that I felt I was just a ghost watching my life fall apart. Powerless, hopeless, defeated.
With time, I begin to see a little more life in her. She nowhere near the woman I knew or married. But she isn’t as resentful either. She starts taking a better care of herself. Interested in hanging out with friends again. I’m not sure what has changed, but I’m very supportive and encouraging. I’ve lost a lot of sleep over many years hoping for this. Until one day, something doesn’t feel right. Signs are beginning to appear, but my denial is strong. It took my mind six months to convince my heart what my gut knew long ago. On Father’s Day, of all days, I came across a text I couldn’t ignore. All the pain I had felt over the last seven years smacked me all at once and completely turned my world upside down.
We were gathered with family that day. I found the message in the morning. I couldn’t make a scene, but I couldn’t look at her either. When we finally left after supper, I confronted her. And as we all know to well, she partially admitted the truth. I was too naive to expect too much more, but not foolish enough to believe I knew it all. To be honest, I didn’t care, I just wanted my, our life back. Without any guidance, we agreed to work through infidelity on top of infertility.
The next two years of my life are some of the hardest experiences I could ever describe. Countless ddays. So many lies, deceptions and truths slowly trickled out, cutting deeper and deeper each and every time.
Make no mistake, I treasured her. Even in betrayal I tried. Until one day, she left.
I’m no doormat, but I’m not a quitter either. I didn’t get married to give up, but once she left, there was nothing more I could do. A part of me felt relieved. Most of me was destroyed. How was this my life?
Shortly after she left, rumours began to circulate. We both come from very small towns. 400 in mine, 600 in her’s. Everybody know everybody kinda place. Slowly I start hearing things. What an asshole is was/am. How abusive and controlling I was/am. How I didn’t respect her or cherish her.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. After all we had been through, after all I had been through, folks were understanding of her cheating because I was an asshole. That she must of done what she did for a reason. The next 6 months would become harder than anything else until that point. I wasn’t willing to play the rumour game. I had no desire to destroy her reputation. Sure some here might not agree with that, but I don’t operate that way. This was a woman I vowed my life to. I would have taken a bullet for. I’m just not built in a way that can flip that off overnight.
I never believed the rumours. I knew better. I was actually there. I lived it. But when enough people start telling you otherwise, you begin to question yourself. At least I did.
When SI found me, I was at a point of no return. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. I questioned myself all the time. I just wanted it all to stop. Until I began reading some stories in JFO. Horrible and tragic stories of suffering brought on by those trusted most. In all that pain, one constant message screamed out to me - it’s not your fault.
Fucking right it’s not my fault. It’s not some want or need to believe that. It’s lived experience that told me I honestly tried everything I could. Fucking everything. The saddest truth I’ve ever had to make peace with is the fact that there is little I can control and none of that control is another person.
If you want to believe there’s something you could have done differently, NeverHealed, then you are entitled to believe so. I would never put that yoke on someone else though. It’s burden is more than anyone deserves and ultimately, completely unfair to place the choices of someone on another.
