Side Fourteen: Being Sick

I am fighting a nasty, nasty cold right now. It's knocked me on my butt, and I had to stay home from work yesterday with a stuffy nose, a cough and a fever. I spent the day sleeping and wallowing in my misery. I can spend a day doing that since I have no children needing me.

Friends and family with kids have told me that when they're sick, there is no day off. They can't just crawl into bed with a box of kleenex and a system full of ny-quil because the children need them. That sounds dreadful to me. Yesterday, in the depths of my despair, caring for another human was the furthest from my mind.

The author, who is very sick.

 

My sister told me that her kids are always bringing germs home for the family to share. G will go to play-group and come home with a stream of thick, green snot pouring from his nose. That splendour will work its way to the rest of the family. E will come home from story time at the library with a stomach bug that is soon spread like butter to the whole house. Last summer when we moved home, I caught the grossest cold. I love G and E and Goodtimes, so I played with them, hugged them and cuddled with them as much as I could. Completely unaware that they are germ-carriers, I caught this mutant strain that knocked me on my ass for days.

The lack of children in my home means that there are no little people to bring home whatever germ is floating the daycares and play groups these days. It also means that when I do get sick, I can whimper and wallow in bed until I feel better again. Being barren while being sick is a healthy thing.

Side Ten: Restaurants

My Sister recently moved to northern Manitoba for work. Before she left, we went for breakfast. G was in play group, and I foolishly thought that we could have a nice, quiet breakfast with one child - just E. You see, I have never really been to restaurants with two adults and one kid. It's always been a slew of children and a bunch of adults to reign them in. I thought with this ratio, we could have a civilized, adult meal. After all, the adults outnumbered the child, so adults should win, right?


E was in a high chair, but then tried to climb out by almost tipping it over. She walked around the restaurant saying hi to everyone, but came back when people ignored her. She ate french toast with her mom, but then tried to pour syrup on the table. She ate some berries until she tired of them and smashed them in her tiny fingers. With syrupy, berry-stained hands, she grabbed for the salt, the pepper, the sugar packets, the milk cups, the flowers, the specials board, my wallet, her mom's sunglasses. This continued until our food was gobbled, our coffee slurped. We dined and dashed - with paying, of course.

Last night, Husband and I went to dinner. It was a lovely place, and we enjoyed ourselves despite the children around us. But watching the family with the two little boys - about 6 and 8 - made me see yet another bright side to barrenness.

The younger boy was the ham of this family. He was making faces, making bubbles in his glass of water, saying "cute" things. He didn't even stop when the food came. He started harping about wanting chicken bones (read: chicken wings) and yelped about it until his mother blew on a wing until it was cool. I watched the mother. She was eating quickly, grabbing napkins, saving glasses of water from falling off the table, shushing the younger kid, getting ketchup for the older kid... it was exhausting to watch. Husband and I got our meals and enjoyed our serenity.

Being able to talk and enjoy another adult's company over a meal is a very bright side of being barren.

The Upside of Barren-ness

My husband and I got some news this spring. I hesitate to classify the news as devastating or sad, but it was certainly life-changing. We cannot have children.

While we were planning our wedding and our lives together, children were always a part of the equation. We knew we would like to have a couple in the coming years. Just not right then. So I went on birth control and we went about our way getting married, getting settled, moving and so on. 

The day after my 34^th birthday, Husband and I were lounging about and the topic of babies came up. We consulted the calendar, looked at our life plans, evaluated our finances and came to the conclusion that it would be the right time to try for a family. A month passed. Then three months, then six and then at nine months, I went to my doctor. I was concerned since I would be 35 soon and all the literature I read said that fertility decreases at 35 and, with panic in my voice, asked him to send us for testing.

I did my routine tests – the blood, the urine, the ultrasounds. Husband did his part, too. Nothing is more surreal than squealing through the streets while your husband cradles a warm cup of his sperm. We walked his sample into the fertility clinic and were met with a sea of couples with the same look on their faces. The women looked scared but hopeful. The men made little eye contact. The air was heavy with anticipation. We left our sample and waited for the results.

The tests came back, and our doctor said there looked like there were some anomalies, but refused to elaborate. He referred us to a fertility specialist. We waited for that appointment, but it was at least a six month wait. The health system in Alberta is atrocious. After we were added to that long list, I saw my doctor again, to see if he could shed any light on why my uterus remained empty. He said that the chances of us conceiving were slim to nil.   

Husband and I were sad, to say the least. We had hoped for a child and this news – this slim to nil news – came as a blow. In the backs of our minds, we always suspected that we might never have a baby, but now it was confirmed. No baby for us.

We considered adoption or in-vitro. In-vitro was soon eliminated as a choice. I hate needles and neither one of us were prepared to shell out thousands of dollars for a chance at a child. As we talked over the choices for us, we came to a realization.

Maybe we are not meant to be parents. Maybe we are meant to be a really good aunt and uncle to the children already in our lives. Maybe we are destined to be the childless couple. Husband and I tossed this reality around for a while and realized that this is what is meant to be. Whatever sadness we felt at the idea of no baby quickly evaporated and we felt liberated.

My sister has two children – G, 3, a boy and E, 1.5, a girl. My brother has one son – Goodtimes, aged 1.5. We talk a lot and I listen to their tales. With every stain of poop, with every exhausted yawn, with every utterance of the phrase “what about the kids?” I thank my lucky stars for the life that Husband and I have. And I take notes for this blog.

This blog is for all the childless couples out there. Sure, being barren can suck, but there is an upside. Let’s explore the upside together. Leave a comment, leave your own experience, leave your insight. Let’s celebrate the Upside to Barren-ness!