H has been in an odd mood lately. Distant, distracted, tending to sigh and wander off mid-conversation. Not nearly as affectionate as is his wont. Normally, when we get into bed, he puts an arm around me and kisses me before we both roll to our respective sides of the bed and bury our heads in the pillows, back to back. For the past week, he hasn’t, and as I am considerably less cuddly and considerably more prickly then him, I wasn’t going to if he wasn’t, harrumph.
And anyway, I was in rather a sulk myself.
But by yesterday it was definitely bugging me. So I tackled H. What was the matter? I asked politely. H shrugged, and looked, as he does, long-suffering. The little irritations in life, work, the broken oven, didn’t seem ‘enough’ to be in such a mood about. And the bigger things… he shrugged again. I said, ‘Is this all because it’s Father’s Day tomorrow?’ Poor H. ‘I hadn’t actually consciously thought of that,’ he replied, ‘And now thanks to you I am thinking of it.’
I decided to shut up about it for a while.
And that night in bed, again, no cuddle. I’m afraid I felt my temper fray. I tackled H. In fact more or less got him in a head-lock and applied Wifely Pressures, aka emotional blackmail, the gist of which ran something like: ‘Husband of my heart, WTF is with the not cuddling thing? Because I am beginning to take it real personal. It’s bad enough me thinking my body is a stubborn heap of shit without you joining in.’ H assured me that that wasn’t it at all, and while he was frustrated that the clomid didn’t work, he wasn’t frustrated with me at all, and certainly didn’t want me to feel that he was. While this was reassuring, it did not entirely satisfy, and I persisted (and, dear Internets, when I persist, I persist, and H knows this of old).
So H finally told me that when cuddling me, all his emotions rise to the surface. Something about holding and being held loosens the lid of the box he keeps them stuffed into. In the day, this is fine, because he can let go of me and Sort Laundry or Do Things On The Internet or Make Tea, and distract himself from said emotions before they actually, you know, get him. However, in bed at night, in the dark, there is nowhere to go and nothing to do but face them. So, you know, safer not to cuddle.
I stroked his hair, and asked, what emotions, sweetheart?
And my darling H said, ‘I’m sad that we might never have a child together.’
And then he wept in my arms, in bed, at night, in the dark.