My husband came home yesterday after being in his home country for almost three weeks visiting his family. I would call him a selfish bastard for leaving me in my hour of need, but a) he hadn’t seen them for over a year, so I suppose a visit was in order, and b) it might ruin the loving tone that I’m trying to set here.
I am beyond thrilled that he’s finally back. Under normal circumstances, perhaps I would have enjoyed the solo time a bit more, but my life rarely approximates anything like “normal”. First, there’s the geography. I am a citizen of one country (the USA), while my husband is a citizen of another, and we live in a third (Korea). Each of us is a legal resident of two countries simultaneously, but oddly enough, the country in which each of us is NOT a legal resident is that of our own citizenship. Did you get that? Good, then you can explain it to me. He speaks three languages, I speak two, but we don’t (yet) speak Korean, the language of the country in which we actually (physically) reside. Yes, my friends, we are geographically complicated. Second, we have a fairly unusual living arrangement. We moved to Korea a couple of months ago in response to my receiving a really great job opportunity. Sadly, it doesn’t pay as much as I might like, but trust me, it’s still a winner. The problem—I’m the one with the cool job, and it is a condition of my husband’s visa that he cannot work here. So, by coming here with me, he stopped being a breadwinner and became a Kept Man. When asked to fill out a form, he always looks a bit glum when he gets to the “occupation” line, so I cheerily suggest that he list his occupation as “International Man of Mystery”. He has yet to do this, but I’m optimistic that he’ll come around. My Mystery Man’s main job, therefore, is to keep me happy, which he ordinarily does quite well. I’m kind of like a classic 50’s American husband, now that I think of it, albeit with a much more interesting wardrobe and a spicier vocabulary. So, having him away for so long was a stark reminder of the fact that while he doesn’t contribute to the family income any more, he really does look after me in a million different ways. Without him here, the house was falling apart, I was malnourished, and my mood had gone decidedly south. As it turns out, I’m no good without him. You can call it love, or you can call it pathetic. Both are undoubtedly true.
While he was gone, I realized that I have no idea where the garbage goes, don’t know where the grocery store is, and make really shitty coffee. I would use everything happening in Korean as an excuse, but I only speak English with the coffee maker, so I really don’t know what’s going on there. Anyway, while I have placed “get a grip on yourself and learn how to function” high on my priority list, I nonetheless have heaved a huge sigh of relief now that he’s back home, and barefoot and ..., OK, just barefoot.
An example of why IVF and absent husbands don’t mix. Yesterday I was so proud of myself because I actually made myself a lunch before heading off to work. (Hey, it’s progress). However, I forgot the critical step #2 which is “take lunch to work”. I am not normally this forgetful. I blame the hormones. Had Mystery Man still been away, I would have been stuck eating out, while my food rotted at home. As it was, he delivered. Love that man.
Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming. There seems to be some progress down south. I’m decidedly sore around the ovaries and experiencing some mild, um, digestive issues. I am embracing these as signs that ye olde ovaries haven’t yet given up the ghost entirely. We’ll see. Tomorrow is my first scan since starting the injections. I’m all aquiver.
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