You Didn't Break It, And You Can't Fix It

DH keeps asking me, "Are you okay? Are you okay?"

No. No, I am not okay.

I mean, I say that. I say it just like that. It doesn't feel weird to me to feel it or to say it. Why should I be okay? This just happened, and it's major, and it hurts. And yet, it's so hard for him to accept. He gets painfully cheerful, to try to make me happy. Then upset when it doesn't make me happy.

I'm not happy, not today.

But it doesn't mean I'll never be happy. It doesn't mean I want to sit in my figurative seven-days-in-a-row pajamas until I'm buried in them. It just means it's hard now, and it will get better, but it isn't yet. He just can't stand that he can't fix it.

It's funny what you learn over the years and what you just can't learn, no matter how hard you try. I can remember early in the relationship when I'd explain a problem and he'd immediately offer a solution. And then I'd explain how I wasn't looking for a solution, and he'd look very bewildered and say something like, "Then why did you tell me this?" Aren't we really, truly, just having that discussion again now?

It truly, truly scares me when my life starts to sound like a bad sitcom. (Luckily, they don't make bad sitcoms about infertility!) I keep imagining some horrible show like According to Jim. While I've never watched a full episode, I've always been turned off by the "look at all the horrible sex-based marriage stereotypes" humor, no matter how true they may be (and seriously, Jim Belushi and a hottie from Melrose Place?! Give me a break!). Is my life According to Jim?

No, no, no...I refuse to believe that. DH will hear the message: I ain't telling you so you can fix it. You can't fix it. You didn't break it. I'm telling you so you'll know it's broken, and you'll handle it carefully.