One of the worst things about being an infertile couple is that initially, you feel like you are the only couple in the world who cannot have a kid. Infertility, even today, tends to be an "off limits" topic, like politics or religion. I am making it an "on limits" topic, at least for me. I began opening up about my struggle when I realized that my family, friends, and close colleagues deserved an explanation for my sudden bursts of crazy. That, and the weird crimson flushes that would frequently color my alabaster skin as they rose like greedy fingers up my chest, neck, and face. Crazy and crimson are just two of the enjoyable side effects of the drugs you must take during treatments. Some women, like my former OBGYN, have no side effects from fertility drugs. Others can boast that they no longer fear hell, unless they have Clomid there, too.
(Speaking of my old OBGYN, we parted ways when she informed me that Clomid did not cause side effects. Her empirical evidence? Her Clomid use did not cause HER any ill side effects. Isn't that just so super for her?! Hooray!)
Whatever.
I threw a few pity parties during the Clomid days but my raging hormones eventually sought out a new, defenseless target. Poor John, so innocent and blameless.
Me: "Why don't you make eye contact anymore? Why are you staring at the floor?"
John: "I saw on Discovery Channel that you should never make eye contact with a grizzly if you want to survive."
It was then that I realized there are worse side effects than mood swings and flushing. The worst side effect of all might just be living in mortal fear of your wife.
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