#InfertilityNotATaboo - Reveal rather than conceal

I trudged up to the staircase.  Those distressed eyes belied my burly appearance. The left palm was clasped to the railings while the right thumb and index finger tip-tapped that black pilot pen’s cap. I was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, thoughts that played havoc with my mind.

“Dude, guess what? Nitin Sir’s wife is finally pregnant. The loser has finally been able to achieve the right size and quantity”

“Well, I am afraid that’s not the truth brother. Our earlier assumptions about him being an impotent, good for nothing creature still stands true.”

“Nonsense, how else would his wife bear a baby?”

“I overheard, it’s a bloody test tube baby”

“What the hell are you talking about? I thought test tubes are confined to our chemistry labs isn’t it? How one earth could they produce babies?”

“Dumbass, there’s a technique called ICSI (a form of IVF) via which sperms are injected into the egg. Even I am not aware of the technicalities but all I know is that men like these are a disgrace to our society. Such techniques act as a shield to their sexual incompetency and help them to be accepted in the society. I feel if they can’t satisfy their wife in bed, they have no right to be treated as men. It’s a clear insult to the manhood, it’s better that Nitin castrates himself if he has such an ineffective tool.”

Saying this, Rishabh and Ramit exchanged a hi-five and cackled with an abominating laughter. I gaped at them through the window pane in horror, without getting noticed. My feet remained planted on the ground, as if I was leg cuffed. I was immobile, the melancholy had gripped me firmly upon hearing the version of my students. I felt choked, lifeless and cursed myself. I was a sinner and my wife bore the brunt of my shortcoming. I don’t deserve to exist isn’t it?

Even after three years, those words continue to haunt me. They remain successful in turning my wounds green time and again.

But suddenly, those surreal words came rushing to my mind and infused the much needed oxygen in me.

“Nitin, you need not curse yourself. It’s not your problem, it is “our” problem. I am proud to be married to someone like you who had the audacity to accept it before the world. We live in a society marred by orthodox beliefs, where the only proof to manhood is how long can you last in bed and not by how respectful, lovable and honest you are to your partner. Humiliation is not when you openly discuss about your infertility, it is actually' when an egoistic male tries to conceal his problem to deliberately pass on the “disgrace” to his partner. The entire family won’t give a second thought before sniffing at the woman. Because as per the universal law, it’s always a woman’s fault. But what you have done today, is path breaking. By being upfront, Nitin you have given me the opportunity to shoulder this responsibility with you and I can never be more thankful to you ever, you are my man.”

Her words yet again helped me to rise from the ashes. In the euphoria, I didn’t realise I had crossed the staircase and reached my apartment. The calendar outside displayed the date as 8^th October, 2016.

Glancing at it, I proudly announced to myself “My Saira has turned two today.” 

Flashing a confident smile, I entered my house. A cheerful Saira came running up to me and clutched my arms, lovingly pulling me to the dinner table.

“Happy birthday angel,” I exclaimed.

This blog is to #SpreadAwareness about Infertility through Infertility Dost, India’s first website that facilitates couples to brave infertility with support and knowledge. You can find other links  on Write Tribe.