I once saw a commercial - years ago - advertising greeting cards. It must have been close to Father's Day. It was the most perfect Hallmark moment: A young couple sitting down for coffee in a sunny kitchen, the young woman obviously up to something as she slides a card discreetly across the table to her husband, who is taken aback but nonetheless curious. He opens the card and reads, the camera focused on his face as realization creeps in and breaks to sheer, astounded joy. Break to a brief shot of the card that says something about congrats to the first-time dad. The young woman simply smiles, quietly, and sweetly says, "Happy Father's Day." Break to Hallmark logo on a black background (I'm assuming).
The first time I saw that commercial, I must have still been in high school. But it struck me even then, and I thought, "What a cool way to break that news." Since then, I've always hoped fate and timing would allow me to do something similar - maybe not Father's Day, per se, but a birthday, Christmas, take your pick of annual milestones marked by the candy and greeting card industries.
Alas, here is another Father's Day - another year - upon me, and I have yet to find my perfect Hallmark moment in that bright, sunny kitchen.
What is it about the infertility journey that places so much attention on the woman - whether it be her fertility issue or simply her fragile emotional state through the seemingly endless frustration and heartache? For as lonely and invisible as we may feel, our male partners - for we, the most fortunate women - stand stoically, silently, strongly behind us, mopping up the puddles we leave in our tearful wake, holding our hands and expressing hope when we can no longer even comprehend the word. This has been, at least, my very lucky experience.
I don't know if I can truly express how badly I want to make my husband a father - he is childless through no fault of his own. When I think of the love, the qualities, and the life he has to pass on, it breaks my heart all over again. And still he is the one to turn to me, squeeze my hand, and tell me it will happen - one way or another - no doubts. For the women facing a similar struggle without that stalwart partner putting your needs before his own, I am truly sorry. If I can imagine any way the battle of infertility could be any worse, it would be facing it alone.
Growing up with the father I have, knowing what an incredible relationship that can be, thinking of the countless memories I cherish so dearly, the injustice of infertility stings me in an entirely new way. And Father's Day, just like Mother's Day, resonates so much deeper in such a complicated, bittersweet way.
This Father's Day, I say thank you to my dad for being the epitome of fatherhood and for making me appreciate the kind of father I know my husband WILL be one day (soon?). I say congratulations to the fathers new to the gig - you are blessed and deserve this happiness and this responsibility. To the childless fathers, those amazing men - to my husband - I say know how vital you are, know you are loved and appreciated beyond measure, and know that your role in this journey is no less than the very source of strength we draw from when we have nothing left of our own. To you, I can only offer whatever hope I have to share that you will soon be receiving your very own Father's Day card, accompanied by the coy, elated, relieved smile of your tired, adoring partner.
Happy Father's Day.
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