Fathers and Daughters

One of the most heart-breaking things about my (unexplained) infertility is the fact that my husband has been denied the chance to be a father. I often question my own perceived abilities to be a good parent, but his are never, ever in doubt. Even before we got dogs. This is made even more gut-wrenching by his history...but that's for another post.

Which brings me to the fact that last night I had a comfortable, newsy conversation with my Dad. He lives about 2,000 miles away from me, and has limited resources to travel, so its mostly my forays "home" that give us the chance to see each other, roughly every 12 to 18 months. We stay in touch by email and the occasional phone call. I am the youngest of four children, and have felt that I've always had a fairly special relationship with my Dad. He still starts every phone call with, "So, how's my girl?" and ends it with "I love you, baby girl." He worked a lot when I was little and we didn't see a lot of him, but he always made a point to spend some special time with each of his children. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting on the couch watching TV, my little hand in his giant, calloused one.

My parents had a very intense and problematic relationship, in fact, you could say they hated each other. Even as young kids we could never understand why they stayed together. Finally, when I was in my mid-20's my Dad left my Mom and they divorced. It was still difficult, even at that age, and the family went through a period of taking sides. This was mostly due to the fact that my Dad almost immediately took up with another woman and she promptly got pregnant. She was 42 and he was 57. She had no children and knew this was her last chance to be a mother, so they had every test in the book to make sure the baby was OK, and they now have a 13 year-old son. And I have a 13 year-old half-brother. I thought I was losing my place as the baby in the family, but that turned out not to be true.

To say my Mom was the disciplinarian in the family is an understatement of mythic purportions. She had a leather strap that was specifically made for the purpose of teaching your children a lesson they wouldn't forget, and used it often. Her anger was always off the scale, it didn't matter if you spilled milk or shot the next door neighbour, it was always the same level. My Dad's anger was reserved for those times when you really did something bad. Although we had those special moments, as I said, he worked a lot and spent as much time away from my Mom (and therefore us) as he could.

Now, his second-time around as a father, he is completely different. He spends so much time with his son he complains about it, and is so lenient with him it was shocking to me the first time I witnessed it. I kept thinking, I would NEVER have gotten away with that as a kid! He asked me how things were going in our attempts to have a family and I briefly filled him in on the last couple of months, how disappointing its been, and that this upcoming injectibles cycle (when we actually get to do it), will be our last attempt with medical assistance.

He seemed glad of that and told me basically that once we forgot about it and relaxed, it would happen. It happened for them, after all. I patiently explained to him that I've been monitored closely the last two years and every time I take a test my results get worse. Then he tells me that we can always adopt. Its not like we haven't had this conversation before. I again gently told him that isn't the path we decided to take. I know he wants me to have what I've been trying for so long to have, and I'm grateful that he takes an interest, but as someone who has two families there isn't any way he can even relate.

I know this is a rambling post...this morning I cried into my husband's shoulder and told him how sorry I was that nothing we've tried has worked, and he told me it wasn't my fault, and I told him I just wanted him to be a daddy. At which point our two huge golden retrievers piled on top of us in the bed, just to remind us that we already are parents, of a sort.