Pandora's Box

A Difficult Question

A sharp pain focusing on the right side of my neck spreading to my head and half way down my back wakes me up.  I’m cuddled beside my beautiful wife under a Hudson Bay trapper blanket, down comforter and topped with a quilt my grand mother made as a child.  We are at our second home, a small condo nestled in the woods at 9300 ft in summit county Colorado.  The fire in the front room has gone out and it is cold.  I tell myself, “I’ll just go back to sleep, all I need is rest and this awful headache will go away. It doesn’t work.  Sitting up I feel the cold rush over my naked chest, I cock my head to the side praying to hear that wonderful pain-relieving crack.  I stretch from one side to the other, again, no luck. It feels as if I have only made the vice on my neck tighter. I decide to try the chemical, hot shower and positive thinking approach.  It is 4:23 in the morning, I’m 37 and I know this entire headache is a result of my own self-induced stress.

Twenty-nine days ago, while sitting on the big leather sofa watching the Sunday political shows, I wait for my wife to return from our final diagnostic test at the fertility clinic.  The extensive barrage of tests had all come back positive, meaning, it just wasn’t our time yet to have a baby.  As I watch the spin-doctors work their magic on the morning talk show, my wife comes home, opens the door and bursts into tears.  “I’m killing your sperm.”  We hug each other and I just want to comfort her.  It kills me to see my wife in pain.  We talk and I try to just listen, not fix, not finish sentences, just listen.  As we cuddle on the couch and I watch the woman I love in such pain, I learn that I am not to be a father.  At first it doesn’t really hit me.  I am focused on my wife’s tears.  Her pain.  I cannot begin to understand how she must feel.  Every strand of her being has been programmed from before her own birth to reproduce, nurture, and defend.  In essence, to become a mother.  This isn’t to suggest that I am like an old Grizzly bear; fulfill my physical needs, move on and then if we should meet again, I might eat the little ones.  I simply realize that I cannot comprehend what she is feeling. That Sunday was a long day.

Contemplation Begins
Warm sun hits our tear filled faces as we walked through Washington Park in Denver.  Health nuts are in abundance, running, skating, spinning just one more lap at light speed on their bicycles.  Families and lovers fill the gardens, playing and looking at one another with caring eyes.  The little ones explore with absolute fascination, squirrels, flowers, rocks and even the grass.  Smiling I envy their curiosity in something as simple as grass.  We continue walking hand in hand, doing our best to just be.  A fog of disbelief follows us with “what should we do’s?” and the “why us?” questions.  During a period of simply walking and being consumed in our own thoughts, I reflect back to a brief time I spent in a Budhist monastery in Katmandu Nepal.  At the time I wasn’t on some spiritual quest or some new-age trend, circumstance had just placed me there as an adventure while traveling.  Thinking back to some of the friends I had made there, I remembered the basic premise of “Life isn’t fair, get over it.”  Many of the monks I had met there had experienced negative acts I could only dream of.  Hearing the fall leaves rustle and feeling the breeze on my face, makes me realize that life really isn’t fair.  I am so fortunate to be walking hand in hand with my soul-mate, not only had we found each other but we were enjoying a beautiful sun-filled day, we have reasonably large brains that allow us to chase our desires, we live in a country where we can pursue our dreams and speak our mind.  I am self-employed and master of my own destiny, I am not worried about where my next meal will come from, I live the life of a king compared to many in the world.  Yes, life isn’t fair; I am among the fortunate few.  I express this revelation to my wife and she agreed.  The fog cleared and we walked with confidence.  Ten steps later the fog was back.  We both know we will make the right decisions and we will get through this new information about our fertility.  However, first the fog of disbelief will have to turn to the fog of anger and then info the fog of pain and eventually into the clear light of “life is not fair” and yes, we are among of the fortunate.  Realizing we were only beginning this path was a very decisive step.  Even though we both knew the worst was yet to come at least we knew together we were working through it.

The Baby Factory

Four days after receiving the initial test results from the nurse, indicating that we could not get pregnant naturally we found ourselves sitting in the doctor’s office.  This practice is considered to be the best fertility clinic in the State.  This doctor’s office is obviously his inner sanctum, degrees cover the walls and every flat surface is covered with either files or visual aids of the female and male reproductive organs.  Tentatively we sit together, clutching each other hand tightly.  This is where we had sat a few months ago when we decided that after two years of trying naturally we should have some diagnostic testing to find out if everything was OK.  This is where I expressed my concerns about being on a slippery slope.  My fears pertained to starting treatment with just a small step and if that didn’t work then another small step and before we knew it three years had gone by, the emotional toll was off the chart, we spent all we had and we still didn’t have a child.  Neither one of us had anything ethically against fertility treatments for others.  However, we had always said that if we could not have a baby naturally, then it wasn’t meant to be.  Sitting there, holding hands and looking at the doctor with his warm smile, surrounded by busyness, I feared what direction he may try and steer us.  He began by going through all of our tests and explaining how everything was fine except the last test.  There it was, proof that we could not have a child naturally. 
The Doctor smiled and said this was good news.  I looked in disbelief and reiterated my slippery slope concerns.  This man was obviously in the baby making business and from his point of view this was good news.  He explained what the next step would be, artificial insemination.  I asked what the procedure entailed and he explained.  He felt that because it was my stuff and my wife’s egg that it was still natural.  I thought about this and couldn’t see how obtaining my specimen while in a small room at the clinic, having this sample washed and then a select few chosen by a lab technician, having these lab tec chosen few placed into a syringe attached to a long thin tube, bypassing the area of chemical acidity, injecting these washed selected few into my wife after she had peed on a stick that showed two lines, was anything but natural.  He suggested that we should try this 4 or 5 times and we could see if it worked.  If it didn’t, well, we could try the next step, which could possibly involve surgery, and if that didn’t work we could always try invitro fertilization, conception in a petri dish, still natural by his standards.  I could begin to feel the ice form under my feet and see the steep descent in front of me.
Looking at my wife, her eyes could see a glimmer of hope, a possibility.  He had completely ignored our opinion, placed Pandora’s box, unlocked and with a big easy opening handle on our laps.  This was what I had feared.  He had made it so easy for us to just take that next simple step.  He had even supplied us with the rationalization of it being natural.  I know this is his business and evidently most people come in wanting a child at any cost and that is what he supplied.  I am sure he is very good at it.  However, in our case he didn’t or at least didn’t want to, listen.
Never being one to not at least review all options I asked what the cost would be associated with this procedure.  He laughed and said he gets in trouble with his office manager if he discusses costs and he was under strict rules not to do so, that was for our next meeting.  We departed with the usual pleasantries.  The Doctor excited at taking the next step, my wife, with Pandora’s box under her arm, saddened by confirmation of what we had feared yet grasping that there might be hope, and me, distraught by the confirmation of what we already knew and pissed off because the doctor hadn’t listened. 

We were ushered back into the nondescript front waiting room to wait for the Office Manager.  A strong selection of baby magazines intermixed with Time and News Week graced the magazine rack. This front office could easily be interchanged with any of a thousand different Doctor or Dentist offices in the country, with one exception.  Sitting on the table was a brochure for financing.  Yes, with good credit, one could finance your fertility treatments.  Welcome to America.  Cars, washing machines, big screen TV’s and now, the hope of having a child, not a guarantee but the hope, the possibility.  I can feel my feet begin to slip and my stomach begin to rumble.  We are called up to see the Office Manager.

The Office Managers desk is cluttered.  The office is very small and pictures of dogs and babies cover the walls.  I don’t remember seeing any degrees on the walls and she has no windows.  She comes across as very tough.  I notice a picture of a new Hummer 2 taped next to her computer.  I have the feeling of being in the office of a finance manager at a car dealership. She reviews the doctor’s recommendations and begins to explain when we could be scheduled and how the logistics of it would work.  A sheet of paper appears and she begins to break down the costs for our first step on the slippery slope.  $1600.00 for the first attempt at “Natural” artificial insemination.  I ask if there are any other fees. Yes, after some discussions it looks like about $2,200.00 per attempt.  I ask her about fees for future treatments if this doesn’t work.  This seems to throw her off stride.  Another paper is presented and my brain begins to calculate. The rumors of couples spending $50,000 to $100,000 dollars trying to get pregnant over a period of one to two years seem to be accurate.  Our brains have now officially hit overload.  We tell her we need to discuss it, pick up Pandora’s box, take our sheets of paper with cost breakdowns and financing options, walk down the hall out of the nondescript waiting room and stand in front of the elevator door, dazed and emotional wrecks.
                                       
The Fallout

A roller coster of emotions is to follow.  Tremendous swings between logic and feelings, desire and reality.    On the one hand we have Pandora’s box sitting on our lap ready to open.  We could try it just once or maybe twice.  We can afford it and after all it is my sperm and her egg.  That’s natural, right?  The retort.  How is that natural?  We said we would not go any further, it would be natural or not at all.  Then the true mind bender of why do we really want a child and if we moved forward why are we going against nature to create a life?  We could still have a tremendously positive impact on the existing kids around us, nieces, nephews, god kids and friend’s kids.  We could have the energy to spend time with these children in ways that we could not if we had children of our own.  And yet, if we feel that we should only have children naturally and that the Gods must have something else planned for us, why are trying to tell ourselves that we should have kids, why can’t we just accept it. Anyway, what is natural?  If the Gods created man and a man has figured out how to create a child in a non-traditional way but this process is still considered, by some, as “natural,” why not?  If man figured it out then in some respect it is natural.  If I have a deep cut, I go to the hospital and have it stitched up.  Stitched up with manmade fibers, a man made needle, in a sterile manmade environment.  I have no ethical dilemma bout that.  Why is this such a challenge?  I find myself continuing to lean to the side “Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.”  We struggle even with this.  Have I set too rigid a standard?  “It happens naturally or not at all.”  Am I being too literal with my word?  Have I set myself up to be so fearful of my own definition of “The Slippery Slope?”  Why don’t I trust us?  Maybe we could simply give it a try once or twice.  After all, we can stop whenever we want.  Now I sound like an alcoholic.  This seems to be the process that flows for two weeks.  One afternoon, talking with a friend about the question of fertility treatment and the higher chances for birth defects, I did some research.  I had asked our fertility doctor the question if there was a higher chance of birth defects when using fertility treatments.  He had danced around the question and seemed to suggest that it was about the same as regular conception.  However, an article I found in the New England School of Medicine Journal suggested differently.  The results reflected in this article, unfortunately, answered my questions and sealed the deal.

A True Quandary
As a person who has a challenge living in the present moment I begin to plan, as I always do.  Growing up in Nebraska, my father had always said not to be afraid of making huge goals. Both parents had always told me “You can do anything.” 
In 1989 I sold a business and traveled around the world, literally, all seven contents and 27 countries.  This was an experience that changed my life.  I met my English born wife on a snowy freighter in Patagonia, Chili.  We courted through South America and fell in love on a ship to Antarctica.  We discovered the true joy of a simple life.  All we possessed we carried with us in small backpacks.  We were forced into a slower time.  We had no cell phones and South American public transportation operates on some mystic schedule that only the 2nd and 3rd world can understand.  Even though we lived a very simple existence, we often had more than the locals around us; yet, often we saw a happiness and contentment in their eyes that is rarely seen in the western world. 
Reka, my wife, was from London, a former accountant for a venture capital firm.  She had somehow escaped the material Gerbil wheel that most get caught up on in the western world.  Reka’s desire was for experiences and a simple life.  I too thought of these things.  I recently read a quote from Einstein that read, “A chair, a table, a violin. What else does a man really need?”  I have pondered these words greatly.
I am beginning to realize that since my return to the United States and Marriage to my wife affectionately known as “Trouble,” I have been doing what I thought I was supposed to do and not necessarily what I am built to do.  I think we are often programmed, in a good way, to follow a certain path.  This programming comes from our family experiences, as well as most all societal influences.  I am not suggesting in any way that these are bad.  I do feel that these influences have affected the way I have been living my life for the last few years.  I had expected to have a family.  When I did, my material want list went from very little to over the top.  These material requirements included, a private school for my children, a positive environment, meaning a good expensive neighborhood, financial security in case I died early, easy travel and time, meaning yearly visits to all family both in the US and abroad.  In short, I wanted to be a responsible parent raising a well-rounded kid.  These material items are beginning to vanish from my “needs” list.

As a Mortgage Broker I often see the unfortunate results of our advertising, consumer society and poor financial discipline.  Most of the folks I see who are in trouble have wound up there because they thought they deserved something, the TV said so.  This isn’t to say that I am not a consumer.  I simply am trying to take a chapter from my wife’s life in that when it comes to something of a material want, make sure you really want or need it, if so, then go and buy the very best and enjoy it for a long time.  I have found when I do this I actually enjoy my purchase much more.  Looking at this it begins to creep into my brain that what I really enjoy is experiences.  I have only rarely had the same job for more than 2 years in a row and then I move on, even though I have been quite successful at most of what I have tried.  When I have had time off, truly my time, my favorite thing to do is to go and explore the corners of the 3rd world.  The happiest I have ever been has been with all my possessions, dirty and in a small backpack, sitting on a hard bench seat on a bus with chickens and a cornucopia of smells, destined for a town I have never been to and have no idea where I will spend the night. After writing this I can see it might sound crazy, but it is definitely the truth.

The cross roads of life have a mythical quality.  From blues singers in the Mississippi Delta making deals with the devil, to where I now stand.  I am not trying to make a deal with the devil, but there is a certain degree of apprehension of which road to go down.  As I see it there are three current options. 
1: Open Pandora’s box, medically try for a baby and live a quality of life as most.    (Already decided against.)
2. Lead a quality of life as most in the same job, building an asset base. (Feels Like being a cog in the Wheel, Not bad, But not for me.)
3. Live a life full of fun, happiness and adventure. (Similar to Hemmingway, Only
I will be a better husband.)
OK, if this is really the road I am considering, the conservative planner in me needs to be able to wrap my brain around some type of plan.  I remind myself to dream huge.  I like most of the world.  My wife has very little material wants and is extremely durable. Once Reka is a citizen we can leave and move to England, do my paperwork and then have the option to live and work legally anywhere in Europe we…… 
Crap, I have just realized I unknowingly just opened another one of Pandora’s little boxes.  As I realize the world really is our oyster I feel like a little kid standing in the biggest toy store and candy shop in the world.  There is a fairy godmother standing there saying you can have whatever you want and as much as you want, but you can only have one thing at a time.  Think about the overload that poor kid must feel.  I know his pain.  With life experiences I have been exposed to, I begin to open my mind and dream huge. Do I want to study for a master seaman license and Capitan sailboats around the world? Become a Chef in Milan, an exporter in Hong Kong, a professional hunter in Alaska or South Africa?  I know it sounds like a little kid saying I want to be a racecar driver or a fireman, but I ask you.  Why not?  We live in a free society, have reasonably big brains, few material wants, and fiscal responsibility. I begin to freak myself out. It’s all out there, all I have to do is choose.
The cross roads of life are not highways with onramps, more like trails in the woods that branch and dead end, connect back up, and constantly change directions.

November 2nd 2004 Election Day
I awake at our usual time 6:00 am.  The annoying blare of the alarm continues until Reka reaches over to shut it off and then flops back onto the bed.  I feel a bit cold and we have our usual playful discussion about her stealing the covers or is it really me getting hot and pushing them all on her.  She leans over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek and hops out of bed.  My body clock is not yet aware of daylight savings time.  It still needs to reset itself.  Usually I wake up two or three minutes before the alarm.  Our day begins in typical fashion.  I ask what type of eggs the Atkins lover in the house wants for breakfast, “Poached” is the response.  I like to think that I am not spoiling my wife, but supporting her.  Never once has she requested that I get up and make her breakfast.  I choose to do so because Reka gets up every morning and goes to a job that is OK.  She does this to ensure a consistency of income while I create a new business for our transition to living full time in the mountains.  I do not take this fact for granted.  Reka jumps off to shower and I begin making breakfast.  As is my usual practice I turn the news on.  I have actually been anticipating some kind of terrorist attack before the election and yet somehow, here we are on Election Day.  There have been no attacks here at home.  For the first time I realize that my weeklong headache seems to really be gone.  Happy days are here again.  Eating breakfast in the front room watching the TV is a rare event for us.  Typically it is together time at the kitchen table.  However, today is election day and I am trying to soak up all that the spin-doctors have to offer.  Like the candidates or hate them at least this election has spurred people on to become involved, to vote.  I truly feel that as citizens of this great country it is not our right to vote, but our civil obligation.  Watching the TV I notice the little box with the temperature at the corner of the screen, 14 degrees (About –5c).  That’s cold for November 2nd.  I decide to have my morning smoke and Sophie, the yellow lab, and I venture out.  I can feel the cold as I breathe through my nostrils and crystals of ice crack under my feet. Sophie does the excited dance of, hey I’m outside and so are you.  It is dark, yet the sky holds the beautiful pre-dawn colors of what promises to be a chilly but beautiful day.  Reka’s jeep starts without a problem.  I then turn, stare down and then swagger to the old Mercedes diesel, like a gun fighter.  This 14-degree day will be a true test to see if the work the new mechanic has done is successful.  If not, it may be time to car shop.  I mosey up to the door and insert the key; well I try to insert the key.  The lock is frozen, I feel like a gunfighter who didn’t even get his gun out of his holster.  I laugh at myself a bit and find a different door lock more receptive to the key.  Finally in, sitting behind the wheel in the crystal covered car I impatiently wait to see the little glow plug light on the dash turn off, signaling it is time to try and turn the engine over.  The light goes out and I turn the key.  The big diesel belches to life, spits and sputters a bit but continues to run.  The old boat must have known what I was thinking, started on the first try.  I guess I will keep her.

You may be wondering how a simple morning routine applies to this story.  While warming up cold cars and playing with the dog I realized three simple ideas.
·          Reka and I are one hell of a team.
·          Life will always do the unexpected.  14 degree on November 2nd and we can’t get pregnant.  That’s life.  Deal with it.          
·          Why worry about terrorist attacks I can’t prevent and pregnancies that won’t occur.  Especially when I get excited about making breakfast for my bride and the glow plug turning off allowing the engine to roar to life.

I talk about a simple life, and even try to live it through a desire for fewer material wants, yet for some reason, I still don’t get it.  I’m getting closer and I am truly trying to appreciate the path.  I firmly believe the Gods have something else in mind for us.  I also believe that the Gods are playing a joke on me because we haven’t seen the path yet.  If I could plan and know where I was going I would have no problems with a long arduous path.  What drives me nuts is not knowing what the plan is.  I can hear the Gods laugh in my head. (Metaphorically, I really don’t hear voices). They laugh because I desire to know what the plan is, where I am going.  The Gods must be enjoying watching me squirm as I learn to appreciate the life’s path and relax a bit, while allowing life to unfold the way it wants to and on its time frame, not mine.

Moving On
As we sit in the Tattered Cover bookstore we search for advice on how to proceed.  A gracious clerk has helped us to find books on international careers and guidebooks on identifying how to find what career you really love.  We have also asked if there is anything out there on getting through tough times when you find out you can’t get pregnant.  Our helpful clerk disappears on a quest to find something to help.  As I sit with my recently operated on knee, elevated, looking through a list of foreign employers she returns.  There are no books that address our needs in the no baby arena.  Again I can hear the Gods laughing.  I guess this is one we will have to figure out ourselves. 

My headache is gone and the self-induced stress is beginning to decrease.  We are still mourning the children we wont have but truly appreciating each other.  We look to the future with our eyes filled with pinwheels of excitement, confusion and wonder. We know our pain will diminish but never really disappear.  Life isn’t fair, we know this and realize we are on the fortunate end of the spectrum.  Where it takes us, who knows, but it sure will be fun getting there.

Keep Smiling,
Lucas