My friends on the Internetz, it’s my husband‘s birthday today!
(Be nice and wish the grumpy old fart a happy 37th, will you?)
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Throughout the entire infertility journey, I’ve been talking about how I feel, how sad I am and how hard it has been for me. But it hasn’t been a walk in the park for him either. As brave as I have been, he’s been equally brave too. Because if not for his blessing and support, I would never have spoken out aloud about our struggles and pains (and gained some sanity in return).
Husband has been a trooper. While many men would have balked at the idea of DIYing into a really tiny cup or having their boys analysed or seeing a fertility specialist, he was all for it. Not once did he exhibit any signs of chauvinism, not once did he make this more difficult that it already is.
And I am so proud of him for being man enough to talk openly about our fertility woes. Seriously, my friends on the Internetz, how many men are brave enough to do that?
So yes, in more ways than one, he is the one with the balls in this relationship.
Even if he is a tenor.
Who publicly announces his love for bags and shoes. (coughgaycough)
Of course, he is not perfect. He has his arsehole ways and arsehole days. Honestly, there are days when I am fearful of this marriage breaking down under the strain of infertility because, by God, this is one of the TOUGHEST things I have ever had to endure. But each time I get pissed off with his arseholeness, he does something so wonderful or funny that I toss out the idea of returning him to the factory.
Plus, he says the darnest things like, Just because my soldiers are down doesn’t make me less manly.
See? I think I shall keep him.
Happy birthday, my darling husband!
Awesome picture taken by the awesome Alywin.
Yannisms 