Thanks for all of your helpful answers to my questions. I'm so glad I asked them. Although I have to say, just based on how many of you use words like "protocol", I can safely say we are very far behind on the IF learning curve.
By the way, I meant to ask the question "Does it bother you when bloggers post pictures of their kids", not "Would it bother you if I posted pictures of my kid". I have no intentions of posting pictures of the Buggins. I mean I'd like to, but I think you all know by now that my wife would give that idea the double-handed smackdown. To quote The Rock, she would layeth the smacketh down. You smell what I'm cookin'?
As I've said before, she reads my blog every day. And lately I think she feels like I'm giving her a little bit of a raw deal. She says she comes across as kind of a mean, unhappy be-otch and I come across as a sensitive, saintly, handsome, charming, successful, funny, athletic, talented piece of beefcake. Whats that? You don't think I come across like that? You're just saying that to make my wife feel better. That's nice, thank you.
Anyway, to even the playing field, I told her I would post a story about something insensitive and/or just plain dumb that I did.
Long list to choose from. This took me a while. But I found one.
As usual, some background is in order. Our support system sucks. It's terrible. We have no family nearby at all, and the family that is within a days drive is either 1) too wrapped up in their own giant bag of serious issues to be of any help to us or 2) too selfish and insensitive to ever think about anyone or anything other than themselves.
This sad fact has caused us much trouble, and I think made things like IF and even pregnancy and giving birth so much harder and more stressful than it would otherwise be. Little things like making an appointment to see the RE. What about our 2 year old? There's no MIL to babysit, I have to go to work, there's no family to help, only price-gouging teengagers who charge $20 per hour and who require 2 weeks notice because of the crazy competition for babysitters in my town. Through this process we've learned who our REAL friends are (turns out there's none...), and we really can't think of anyone we would be comfortable asking to watch our kid, or who we think would even say yes. So what can my wife do? She brings The Buggins with her. Terrible.
Also, when Buggins was born, there was no help. Big C-section (which I think is good because the baby comes out looking all cute instead of all squished up, but then again I'm not the one getting sliced open). We could find no one to help us. My mom actually did show up to help, but before long I had to put her back on a plane because I could only take care of 1 baby, not 2. To top it all off, when Buggins was just three weeks old, I had to travel to Eastern Europe for business for a whole week. (Am I a spy, you ask? If saying yes makes me seem more interesting, then yes).
Leaving my wife alone (not just that week, but pretty much the first 3 months) with no help or support is one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. She was averaging about 2 hours of sleep each night. She was a ghost. It was awful. But that's not even the story I wanted to tell! That's just background.
OK, so Buggins was like 6 weeks old. Up all night pooping and crying and whatnot. I caught a glance of my wife, and noticed that I could fit all my dirty laundry into the bags under eyes. So I said "Honey, tonight, you got to bed and sleep well all night. I will take care of the baby. The Whole Night Long." (M had pumped so I had plenty of milk to feed the baby with). She was so thrilled, she darted upstairs and jumped into bed before I could change my mind. It was 8pm.
At 8:15pm, before she was even asleep, she heard the baby screaming. "Ahhh, she thought, I don't have to deal with that...he'll get it. I can just slip into sweet slumber." But the crying didn't stop. What the hell, she wondered. She gave it a few more minutes. Still, the baby screamed. Finally, M got out of bed (now she's sleepy AND angry, a swell combination). She peeked in on the buggins, who had dropped her pacifier out of reach. She popped it back in, and came hunting for me. She came down the stairs and saw me, in all my glory.
There I was, dead asleep on the couch, next to an empty scotch glass on the coffee table. The baby monitor was propped up against my ear like a headphone. The babymonitor was working, by the way. And it was only about 30 minutes since I told M to go to bed.
She woke me up and started crying in disbelief. I basically told her I was too tired and I REVOKED my offer. We took turns with the baby the rest of the night.
Anyone still out there reading this?