Deciding who to breed with

I inspired myself to think about this topic back before the ER/surgery saga, and I believe I now have the time to dedicate to a proper completion to my thoughts.

When I was younger, I wanted to have the life my mom did. She was married at 19, gave birth to me exactly 1 month after the wedding (ok, I was going to change that timeline a bit and be married before I got pg, but 19 was the magic age). By 24 she had her three kids and was the epitome of SAHM. She baked her own bread, she made perfect mac & cheese (it is possible to screw it up, but we're leaving Dad's mother out of this), taught us how to read, showed us the joy of rolling down hills and catching worms for fishing. She crocheted intricate snowflake ornaments, enough to cover the Christmas tree and hang in every window. She taught us to covet the simple things and evade the materialism of the world around us. She taught us to be proud of ourselves and never let somebody else put us down. Until I was 5 years old, she was a single mom, because Dad was a Marine and almost never stayed in one place. Rather than move us around every 6 months (and very often Dad was out of country), we stayed near extended family.

Rather insignificant bit of information: Dad is not biologically related to me. They were married before I was born, his name is on my birth certificate, but his sperm did not contribute to my existance. That guy has never been a part of my life, only met him once and I was too little to remember. But there is a significance, because it contributes to the "choosing who to produce children with" dilema. At the time I was conceived, Mom was romantically involved with that guy, had been for quite some time. She had dated Dad a few times, but he was always taking off for another month in the field or whatever military thing, so she was still somewhat involved with high school boyfriend (i.e. that guy). Things end with that guy, things step up a notch with Dad. Turns out that guy got her pg before Dad came back in the picture. Dad doesn't care, he loves her, wants a family with her. Half a year later they are married, fetal me in the way of their first kiss as husband and wife. And now fast forward to the topic at hand: choosing the "father" of your children.

When it comes to my conception, the criteria for mating was high school love. That imagined love, love that you realize was nearly insignificant once you grow and feel real love (and sometimes that real love is with the same guy, but HS love really is nothing like adult love). Some possibly magical moments, but really just sneaking around to "do it" without parents finding out. That's how my "father" was chosen.

And my dad? Well, with the information at hand, it appears that it was a case of a relationship given the time to blossom, but with a due date approaching and decisions needing to be made. He would be seen as my father no matter what, and if he wanted to stay with my mom he had to be a part of my life as well. It was a situation he jumped into with open eyes and open arms. He is the only father I have ever known, and I know that he sees me as his daughter 100%, I am in no way his stepdaughter. How about my mom's choice in it all, did she put much thought into who I would call daddy? Is it as much thought as we put into that decision when we are diagnosed with infertility.

For most women, being the man they love is enough criteria to father a child. For some, the man just has to be the one they found that night. But for us, is there something more? Do we hold our men to a higher standard? Do we judge whether or not they are worth injections or hot flashes or laparoscopic surgery? Do we question whether they deserve the child we are going through so much to conceive? Do we question whether they are the support system we need while doing so? Is it enough that we love them? Or do we demand that they go above and beyond the "normal" fathering requirements to validate our choice in enduring treatments to have their child? What criteria do we really hold our men to?

We ask them to do so much more in light of infertility. Jerking off in cups, holding our hand during the pain of an HSG, pacing the waiting room when our lap last 3x as long as the doctor prepared him for, wiping our tears and holding our shaking bodies when grief explodes from a failed cycle.

And if this guy doesn't work out, if he can't be what we need, does that change how we date and search for a new mate? Do we test them in upsetting situations? Do we push them a little too hard, to make sure they will be able to handle it?

My cousin is so fricken lucky. She was getting really serious with a guy (Drummer), more serious than she'd ever been before. Tragedy struck our family, our favorite uncle died (one of my first posts tells the story of Goofball). He had been a second father to all of us, even more to her because her parents were divorced. Drummer had just driven from Wyoming to Tennessee two days prior (and we got the call early in the morning, so really he had only been home for 18 hours or so), but immediately packed a suitcase and drove her to Michigan. He had never met the extended family (all 300 of them), and it was the worst case scenario to do so. He was tested that weekend, his energy drained, feeling helpless in such an emotional situation. Lucky her, he was amazing. They are married now. But how lucky is that, to have life test your man so wholely right at the cusp of engagement? Going into it, she has proof that he'd do anything for her and be the kind of man she needs. He is so the perfect husband for an infertile. Of course, they will probably pop out perfect little children without a care.

So, do we judge our men differently because of our infertility? Do we hold them to a higher standard? Do we question or desire to have children with them? Or does or desire to have children trump all?