Baby making blues

20 Sep

Ahhh. As if there isn’t a better way to feel good about making babies than by having an argument. Way to get your guy in the mood, right?

As I was explaining last week, I have recently turned into the PMT monster. I found out I was not pregnant (again) and was feeling the sharp edge of every menstrual hormone. Perfect time for a pack of cigarettes to fall out of The Boy’s pocket.

Which it did. On Sunday afternoon. Our one day together.

Cue tears and tantrum.

I don’t even know why I started. I knew The Boy was still smoking on nights but I thought, stupidly, that since we were actively trying to make a baby he’d have stopped. Unfortunately we don’t live in my little fantasy land of smiles and psychic mind reading. We live in the real world where we don’t have a baby and I get to spend my days scarily obsessing over what we can do next month to improve our chances.

Anyway, we argued. We went to bed still wary of each other with nothing much resolved. I came to work angry, bitched to my colleagues about it all, then sat down and tried to rationally figure out what’s actually going on.

So far I have….

The Boy’s side:

  1. You know I’m still smoking… but only on nights… so why all the yelling?
  2. I am quitting… sometime.
  3. OMG I married this? You know what I feel like now? A whole freaking PACK of cigarettes. Yeah, that’s right. The second you leave I’m gonna smoke those m*ther f*cking bitches like a caterpillar on a mushroom.

My side:

  1. Smoking decreases male fertility. We’re trying to make a baby. How can you not see the problem here?
  2. When you see me running around charting temps, not drinking tea, coffee or alcohol, exercising every night of the week, giving up sushi, analysing bits of my body I’d rather not be thinking about and stuffing my face full of vitamins every day, and then ultimately getting worn out from not succeeding despite doing all this, I don’t understand how that has zero effect on you.
  3. You said you’d quit when I got my driver’s licence (done), when we got married (done), and when we started trying to have kids (done). What else do I need to do here?
  4. Now I am upset. There is no coming back from me being upset, no matter how rational you think your argument is.

Right. To be fair, The Boy has cut down on his daily nicotine intake. I am immensely proud of this. I think it’s great. And maybe I’m being too hard, but I figure if he can not smoke for days on end, which is truly awesome, why ruin it by smoking when he’s working a night shift?

What gets me is that while I knew he was still smoking, a part of me just hoped he’d see how much it hurt each month and just… stop. It’s not as though he hasn’t quit before. It’s not as though he doesn’t want this kid as much as I do. So I don’t get it.

I know part of him is thinking that the effect his smoking has is miniscule. Yes, the bogans down the road who drink like fish and smoke like chimneys and still have more kids than Centerlink can afford might be fertile despite their continued substance abuse. Or they could just be boinking like rabbits because they don’t have much else to do.

But what I don’t get is that even if he thinks there’s a tiny chance of him smoking affecting our ability to conceive, why do it? Why let me, someone you love, get hurt month after month if (and I’m totally not saying it is) that’s a contributing factor?

Now we’re at a stalemate. He won’t quit now because I’ve nagged him, and I think he’s being stubborn and selfish. I’ve tried not saying anything about it. I’ve tried being supportive. I’ve talked about how his smoking affects me and other people who care about him and I’ve tried to make him feel guilty. Nothing. And honestly, I can’t try anything more except try to not resent the broken promises.

Sigh. Disappointment’s a bitch.

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