I’m writing this on the airplane, comfortably cruising along at 30-something thousand feet.

I have to say that I remain shocked, thrilled, and extremely grateful. I’m also a little nervous about what the future will hold.

In any case, let me expand on these feelings for a bit.

Shocked

L called me just as I was getting ready to head down for my car ride to the airport. I don’t recall exactly what she said… something to the effect of “it worked… blah, blah, blah… “you’re going to be a daddy…” blah, blah, blah. I was shocked… or more accurately just stunned. Stunned. L was also exceedingly calm. I think she was shocked too.

Theoretically, we knew this was possible. Yet, emotionally, we didn’t allow ourselves to go to an overly hopeful place. On balance, that was probably the right decision.

Wow. It worked.

Thrilled

Needless to say, we are both thrilled. My pleasure exists on multiple levels:

First (and most importantly), we’re closer to actually being parents.

Second, we were able to get here on the first IVF cycle (making the “shared risk program” perhaps a costly waste of resources… but a decision I don’t regret and a price I’d pay 3 times over).

Third, the IVF cycle was relatively “easy” for L – both physically and emotionally.

Fourth, we can (hopefully) move on to the next phase of our life together.

Grateful

I’m grateful for all of the items on the above “thrilled” list.

I’m even more grateful when I consider our joy in the context of fellow infertile couples. I’ve read so many stories of struggles far worse than ours. And, now, it looks like we’re getting to the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel” in advance of others too. I cannot help but feel extraordinarily grateful, both for our good fortune and the fellowship of others.

I don’t know why we’re “the lucky ones” today.

We all stand on the roulette wheel of life. Sometimes, for good or bad, our number hits. There probably is no way to know “why” or at least that knowledge is beyond us.

I am, therefore, humbled and grateful.

Nervous

Not to be a downer, but… I also know joy can be fleeting.

Miscarriages. Stillbirths. Premature birth. Birth defects. And so on and so forth… all of these are now (relatively speaking) far less than likely outcomes. Nonetheless, I’m also far more keenly aware of such issues (and the associated devastation) than I would have been under “normal” circumstances. I’m just hoping for a healthy, happy bundle of joy.

I’m also worried because I now have to start transitioning from thinking about “how to become a father” to thinking about “how to be a good father.” I see this as an awesome responsibility and (in all likelihood) the most important work I’ll ever do in my life. This is daunting.

As of today, I have to start focusing on a new purpose. Holy shit!

I’ve noticed a common theme in reading other infertility blogs (written mostly by women) over the past weeks and months: a keen awareness of, and emotional reaction toward, other women’s pregnancies.

Obviously, there are the shared congratulations and excitement when a fellow member of the infertile sisterhood trips the BFP light fantastic.

That’s not what I’m talking about…

No, I’m talking about the—often emotional—reaction to pregnancies by seemingly uber-fertile sisters, cousins, friends, co-workers, and acquaintances. Or, more generally, any “bitch with a bun in the oven” shopping at stores like Babies ‘r Us, Pottery Barn Kids, or Pea in the Pod.

That’s what I’m talking about…

In terms of emotion, I’ve read reports of everything from depression to jealousy to anger. (Anger: especially in the case of said mother-to-be handing out well-intentioned, but dumb-as-fuck advice). That said, the overarching theme seems to be a poignant sense of “why not me” and the enveloping sadness associated with that emptiness.

A little closer to home…

L and I have never talked about this particular aspect of infertility.

But, it got me to thinking: does she have a similar reaction?

I was now curious. So, I explained my observations to her the other night.

She confirmed a similar set of feelings:

She sort of shrugged. “Yeah. It makes me sad. It’s sort of like when I was young and other girls had boyfriends before me. I’m not unhappy about their happiness. I just want my happiness too. I think: when will it be my turn?”

My perspective as a man…

I can’t say I share a similar response—or really any response—to other pregnancies or childbirths. I try to look interested and act pleased. Heck, sometimes, I genuinely am happy for them or really do think “it’s the cutest baby ever!”

But, I mostly don’t give a shit.

Maybe it’s because I’m less exposed to this sort of thing as a man? No, I don’t think so. For example, at my office, I recently had three co-workers go on paternity leave for their birth of their children. We also have at least six more “blessed events” slated through the remainder of the summer. I’ve looked at ultrasound pictures (mostly alien-like). I’ve seen the baby pictures (mostly cute). I’ve not touched any bellies—because I think that’s just creepy. But, suffice it to say, I am fully aware.

Yet, I really just don’t give a shit.

Are most men (in infertile couples) like this: blissfully unconcerned?

Is this a fundamental difference between women and men?

Am I crazy?

I have no data points. So, I’m left wondering.