In all honesty I've avoided this blog out of fear. Fear that my words would be seen as audacity by those who are silently suffering from Endometriosis along with my wife. Fear that I would have to face the reality of my feelings and resentment towards the pain that stands between us.
"It's shooting up my stomach," she says as I stand there, hand on her shoulder completely powerless. The Vicodin puts her to sleep, the sleep disappoints me because she's fun when she's awake. Spontaneous is a word that is lost on us because Endometriosis rears it's ugly little head when the mood is just right. Endometriosis has demanded proper noun status because this Endometriosis is ours, it is one of a kind.
Caught in a conundrum we try to plan the rest of our lives around immovable objects standing in the way of intended happiness. The fights or arguments or disagreements or discussions become intense. Melissa is stronger than Endometriosis and is willing to fight. Fighting is havoc on the mind, body, spirit and soul. Fighting leaves you weary and unaware. Fighting leaves you vulnerable to other attacks. Fighting can cause you to confuse the existence of a true enemy.
I'm so in love with Melissa. I'm in love with the ball of fire that I moved next door to almost four years ago. I'm in love with the cute little green-eyed girl who chews her lip when she's nervous. I'm in love with the brown haired vixen who tries to prove to the world she's tough, when sometimes she's not. I'm in love with the tattooed rebel who desperately wants to conform. I'm in love with the seductive wife who's awkwardness is sexy and silliness is alluring. I'm in love with the mother who is going out of her way to prevent her daughter from feeling an ounce of her pain and who protects her sons from a sometimes overbearing father. I love Melissa, the patient. I love Melissa, the warrior. I love Melissa, the scared little girl who wants to show the world that she's doing her best.
The IUD has been placed with hopes that the medication inside of it will help subside the attacks. We wait patiently as the doctor explains the safest course to help us navigate to "normal" (whatever the hell that is.)
God is funny. He has made me powerless in the face of my wife's enemy so that I will remember who will be needed to defeat it. I pray. I pray constantly for the woman I love and the struggle she endures. I pray that He gives her peace and that He gives the doctor wisdom to make it better. I pray He gives me patience to understand that this fight is mine by proxy. I pray that He blesses this marriage for whatever purpose He has. I pray that He hears my prayers.
Through it all, loving Melissa is my joy, my pleasure, and my purpose. The only thing more pleasant than loving Melissa is being loved by God's most perfect work... Melissa.
If I gave the impression that this would be the grand finale, I apologize.There is no grand finale in life but one, and unfortunately it lacks a curtain call or final applause.No, life is nothing more than a series crescendos and diminuendos.There are ups and downs, zeniths and nadirs, but life is not over until it’s over.Please do not read into the inevitable and abrupt halt of life to be threatening, instead see it as a countdown, a constant reminder that life is too short to take moments for granted – especially moments of intimacy.
Which invokes the subject of waiting until marriage.I give full credit and admiration to anyone who has made the conscious decision to refrain from sexual activity until their wedding night.I feared this concept, as most people do, because I felt that I would be trapped in a marriage with someone who didn’t meet my intimacy requirements.What a terrible discovery it would be if on my wedding night the woman whom I’ve pledged my life to was not good in bed.This is the immaturity that plagues most of us, including myself.The reality is that most people are more comfortable engaging in sexual activity than talking about it.For most, the thought of a one-night stand is less intimidating than an in-depth conversation about a meaningful and long lasting sexual relationship.It would only make sense that “test-driving” would be favored over thorough, exhaustive research.
What I’ve found is that open and honest communication facilitates the evolution of a healthy and happy marriage.Evolution being synonymous with change, the “test-drive” becomes obsolete.In my marriage, Endometriosis has forced open the doors of communication.There now exists a third party that we never invited into our boudoir.A voyeur whose mission is not only to witness but to also divide.We have made the decision to not just work around the problem but to confront it head on.Confrontation of this magnitude requires creating a fortified union that can withstand the perils of an attack.My wife and I have found ourselves sitting face to face and fully clothed having long conversations about our needs and our desires.We have been forced to be candid and honest about a subject matter that was once taboo in our marriage.We no longer look to our parents or our past to answer our questions about marriage.We have also learned that the media’s portrayal of love is nothing more than someone’s idealistic and unrealistic view.The movies don’t discuss painful sex or hurt feelings due to long periods of drought.Books rarely discuss the awkwardness of licentious innovation.The reality is that open conversations are often upsetting and shocking.To look your lover in the eye and confess a desire or fantasy exposes yourself to scrutiny and judgment from the closest person in your life.The reward is a deeper and more meaningful connection.
I don’t believe that Endometriosis was the only path to the enlightenment that my wife and I are discovering.I want to believe that it would prove to be a natural and eventual course our marriage would take.As a casualty of divorce, I can’t say for certain that this would take place.You see it is the love and devotion that I have to my wife that gave me the courage to pause and embark upon this issue with my wife.Would it have been unforgivable if I put my needs before hers and breech the boundaries of our marriage?Absolutely.Unforgivable but not inconceivable.I am not soliciting nor do I believe that I deserve credit or recognition for working on my marriage.I am not special nor am I exceptional for doing what men have been doing since the beginning of time – being a man.However, I do want to be honest and say that it wasn’t easy.My first thought was not to stay.My first thought was to be selfish and self-serving.The thought lasted just long enough for me to imagine a life without Melissa.The image of my life without my greatest blessing thus far was frightening.There were no options but to put my wife before me.Here is the part of marriage that I love – when selfish needs are second to both husband and wife, those needs become the priority of the partner.Pleasing my wife has become the motivation and foundation for my life.Pleasing me has become hers.There are moments of selfishness but they are far outweighed by periods of selflessness.It is a slow deliberate race, a stroll without destination or expectation.
I encourage the reader to evaluate their relationship.I beg of you, do not use my words or my marriage as a foundation or backdrop for your own.Marriage, or a relationship of any kind, is a process of discovery.You must be willing to discover yourself and make a true assessment of who you are and what you bring to any relationship.You must be willing to criticize and honestly analyze your worth to yourself and your partner.After doing so, you stand to learn that change and improvement comes first from within.
Sex is more than a spice.It is more than an ingredient.It is a necessary aspect of marriage that should be used to strengthen an existing bond not to create one.The couple involved in a relationship should define a fulfilling sex life for themselves.No other people, guidelines, definitions, expectations, or experiences should be used to create doctrine for the sexual relationship between two people.In our relationship, Endometriosis has forced us to write this doctrine.The love we have for one another is the backdrop for this doctrine.The rules and requirements change daily, sometimes without notice.The only constant is that our goal is to make each other happy.
My wife and I are constantly uncovering the mysteries of our bodies and our desires.With every sensual and seductive moment we unearth a new element of each other and ourselves.At times the romance is incredible and at others the emotional solitude is unbearable.Through it all, our objective remains the same – having an incredible marriage.
It happened during a moment of intimacy; it was a wince, a slight push away, it was an overwhelming feeling of discomfort. I had no idea there was a problem, but I was sure that there was something wrong.
Since the very beginning, the beginning of our relationship, intimacy has been the 300lb elephant in the room that no one would discuss. On the occasion that we tackled the obvious, the result was an argument. We fought. We fought over frequency, variety, and even time of day. One claimed that a lack of intimacy was to blame for the lack of sex, and of course, one claimed that the lack of sex was the cause of a lack intimacy. Both argued our sides with passion and fervency… neither was honest.
It’s funny; courtship can be awkward and uncomfortable. The constant second-guessing and wondering makes for peculiar situations and all the while decisions are being made about the future. For instance, the first sexual encounter can be both exhilarating and exciting while at the same time a complete and utter disaster. The irony is that over time we learn the triggers that elicit appropriate responses. We learn those triggers during the gauche fumbling over one another, stumbling upon discovery rather than following a detailed map. Once the proverbial “spot” is found then the discovery process is completely omitted. We hone in on the source of the climax rather than enjoying the slow and steady ascent that produces it. As in life, the journey is no longer the focus. Instead we concentrate on the destination missing the beauty and wonder of discovery. It takes a partner to slow us down and to remind us that there is pleasure in awkwardness and ecstasy in calamity.
So now the speed has been slowed down considerably, now there is no deliberate act to finish, only to please. However, there still exist a roadblock, a perpetual barrier.
Dyspareunia.
The word is cerebral and malignant. Just to speak it or hear it is invasive and confrontational. Its inelegance is matched only by the oxymoronic nature of the word’s meaning: painful sex. Sex should never be painful. The thought of pain during an act that should generate feelings of joy and bliss is disheartening at the very least. Pain is what she was experiencing. Now couple my previously admitted thoughts of sex with my wife’s desire to comfort and reassure her husband and it is no wonder she was so abashed to confess: this hurts. Plagued by thoughts and feelings of inadequacy she quietly endured the agony of her wifely duties. Absurd? Tell the husband who searches for a job, “it’s okay honey, I understand.” Empathy falls on deaf ears when you feel insufficiency and lack. There is the constant fear that a replacement lives in the recesses of your partner’s fantasies.
I provided no comfort because she was so convincing in her ruse. Instead I convinced myself that I was asking more of my wife than a wife should ever be expected to give. “How often is too often?” I asked myself. I searched various references while taking full responsibility hoping to find proof that I was being unreasonable. I wanted to be grateful for each encounter although my body craved more. It wasn’t until the night that I realized the face she was hiding was immersed in tears that the truth stumbled, malevolently into the room. The feelings she refused to share were rueful and filled with shame. As any husband would, I froze. I halted immediately all activity that I know realized was invading and the cause of her pain. I was the culprit… me and my ignorance.
You see understanding that sex does not equal love was my first indoctrination into the true meaning of marriage. Marriage has to exist beyond sex in order for it to enhance it. The lessons we learn in life are often brutish and uncomfortable. Quite often we must look within ourselves for solutions even when we think we have identified the problem in others. How can I attempt to offer my wife reassurance or empathy when I have not accepted that my own distorted view has exacerbated the problem? I have taught her to love me. I have instructed her how to fill a void that ultimately would not cease my feelings of emptiness. Imagine being equipped with all the wrong tools and then tasked with what would eventually be the impossible. Now imagine those tools don’t work. Had I been honest to my wife and myself then we could have approached this situation together, on one accord.
Conversation, true, revealing conversation became a necessity in our lives. She shared with me that not all of our intimate moments were painful but because she couldn’t be sure, all were treated with the same trepidation. What began as a gentle kiss or an endearing touch could lead to an excruciating paradox. I shared with her that I believed I was causing her reluctance, and that our failing sex live was somehow a result of our failing love life. The truth can be so simply ridiculous.
The spice was ruining the dish. It was overtaking the flavors creating disharmony. The secret ingredient began to atrophy our delectable recipe as well as our palates. So now we are forced with a decision. Do we remove this cancer in hopes that the marriage will work without it? Unfortunately we discovered that a meaningful relationship depended upon a healthy sex life. We began to realize that without moments of intense and unabashed intimacy, everything begins to unravel.
So now we must start over. Healing is necessary and questions must be answered. A complete and total adjustment of all that we thought was true must become the focal point in order to continue. Complete honesty, we hoped, would soon become the ultimate aphrodisiac.
*Disclaimer:The following is as true as I can possibly allow myself to be truthful and as appropriate as I can be while remaining honest.I never wanted to get involved with writing a blog for the sheer “shock and awe” aspect of writing.My desire is to be informative, interesting, entertaining and most of all, ingenuous.Having said that, today’s’ entry is quite controversial and I pray my words create more understanding than controversy.My plan is to discuss sex as it pertains to a marriage and Endometriosis.In three parts I will tackle an issue that thousands of couples struggle with daily.
Part I
Up until about three years ago, if anyone asked me to define love the word sex was sure to be an intricate part of the definition.Sex is a word that doesn’t necessarily evoke the same thoughts or feelings in my relationship as it once had or that it will.Anyone who has suffered from or at the very least, is familiar with Endometriosis is very much aware that sex is… an issue.
In order to be completely candid and transparent, the sex issue has to start well before my wife’s diagnosis or even our marriage.The sex issue has to start with me.As I said, my understanding of love was so deeply intertwined with sex that they were often seen as fraternal twins in my eyes rather than the distant cousins they actually are.I learned the hard way through much more error than trial that understanding the difference between sex and love is imperative to having a fruitful and meaningful relationship.
I ruined my first marriage.I ruined it because the equation I used for love was as follows:sex2 x sex = love.In order words, the more sex I received the more I was assured that I was loved.It was as if having a vivacious sex life was no longer a component of a love life; it was the vey proof that love existed.From experience I can say that not only was the thinking flawed, it was incredibly dangerous.Combining sex with love or desire creates an insatiable need to feel…
I have had and continue to have issues with lust.I don’t have issues with sex because my wife is the only woman I am having sex with.Since the first day of my marriage I cannot honestly say that she is the only woman I have lusted after.I have seen women and allowed my mind to dangerously flow freely with thoughts of being “loved” by other women.What’s the danger?They are just thoughts…
Thoughts are soon manifested into action, which is usually followed by consequence.It is for that reason that I freely and openly admit that I am not the type of man to just engage in harmless fantasy.I believe that we all have our demons.Some are plagued by alcoholism and others fall prey to drug abuse.Drugs have never been an issue in my life and although I enjoy the occasional glass of wine or beer, I am the quintessential social drinker.
I’m sure there are men who are able to subscribe to Playboy magazine or occasionally frequent a strip bar but I am not one of them.I do not put myself in social situations, regardless of how innocent they may seem that may cause a loss of judgment.I don’t… because I can’t.I know the dangers of Internet pornography because they are more than just pictures or movies.They are a beckoning call, a false belief that the act I am witnessing is performed as a desire for emotional closeness.Sound silly?I agree.The idea that a woman who knows nothing about me nor will ever know me could possibly be saying, “I love you” with a perverse sexual act is ludicrous.As ludicrous, I suppose, as the thought that a bottle of Jack Daniel’s or a crack pipe can not only mask pain but also temporarily solve problems.
So now that I have painted myself to be a sexual deviant, how did I get… here?It’s simple.It was the love for my wife I discovered well before we were intimate.I felt her before I ever touched her.She opened closed eyes to the possibility that love and sex are independent entities that are self-reliant and self-sufficient.She taught me that the emotional bond that two people create is stronger than a physical attachment.I became acutely aware of my inadequacies but more importantly, my desire to correct them.Melissa was the alternative to the mistakes that I have been making for years.From the very beginning, I wanted this woman to never feel the damaging grief of my lack of self-control.Through these conscious efforts I begin to heal.
At no time during our marriage have I been tempted to be unfaithful to my wife.I fear not only the loss of what we have developed; I fear the deterioration of the self-respect that I developed for myself.This feat has been the result of prayer, faith and complete disclosure.I talk to God first, asking Him to help during my weakest moments.He answers by giving my wife the gift of understanding and patience.We have made a covenant, she knows my weakness and as long as I never succumb she will listen with non-judging ear.God has an amazing way of removing the guilt, shame and the desire for the things in our lives that torment us.
I have developed a disdain for pornography and I see strip clubs as useless fantasy.I check my ego when I find myself feeding into the flirtatious nature of a waitress or bartender and I speak to women as if my wife were standing next to me.The mistakes I have made in my past were due to ignorance and stupidity.I refuse to allow myself to return to a place of either one.I have not found myself in the lonely place of tear-filled remorse in years because God’s grace is sufficient and I will never surrender to the idea that I am “cured.”
As a reward for my diligence, I no longer view sex as proof of love; I see sex as an expression of love.I see it as the finishing spice or secret ingredient to an existing recipe of honesty, devotion, communication, and of course an ample helping of respect.Together they make for an amazing marriage that creates a plethora of emotions and flavors on the palate of our lives.
My God, she gets on my nerves. Why can’t she just deal with this and move on? It can’t hurt that bad!
These are honest thoughts and unfortunately comments that I have made out loud to my wife. She cries a lot and I’m sure for good reason. I couldn’t imagine going through what she endures everyday and luckily I don’t have to. I don’t have to dread the intense pain that is sure to come once a month on schedule. I don’t have to explain to the world that this agony I feel isn’t self-induced. I’ve never been in a situation where the validity of my emotions has been questioned. I have felt the regret of not being as understanding as I can be and as selfless as someone needs me to be.
It’s frustration. We are both frustrated because there are no answers. Last week I went to the doctor’s office with her and held her hand as she described her pain. She used words so expressive that, as a writer, I actually envied her ability to paint such a vivid picture.
It feels as if my uterus has been placed in a meat grinder. It feels as if I am being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach with a serrated knife. It feels as if a fire has been lit in my pelvis and the flames are shooting up my back.
Wow. How could I not be understanding when she offers such horrific and illustrative descriptions? How can I even attempt to complain about anything while she suffers? We may need to “shut you down” her doctor suggested as if my wife was an ornery piece of electronic equipment. Just hit the reset button and possibly she would work better after being reset. My wife does not want to be reset nor does she want to be treated like a piece of equipment, especially since there is no guarantee that it will work. Even my wife has felt the agony of self-righteousness because the more we read about Endometriosis the more she understands that things could be worse. There are thousands of women who suffer not only from Endometriosis but the host of problems that are associated with this diagnosis. She wept as she read stories of women who will never know the joy of having children or the women who have developed cancer.
To be a supportive husband in all situations I am learning that the fundamental principle to remember is that it’s not about me. My life, my joy, my pain is shared with my wife. In the middle of night when she wakes me in tears because she desperately needs me to hold her hand… those are the moments when being a husband is more important than anything else. When she celebrates because she is able to mark one more day off her calendar as a day with out pain… again that is when I am required to be more than just a man in her life; I must be the man in her life.
There will be times I am selfish. There will be times I am not very understanding, but through it all I must always remember the promise I made… The promise I will forever keep.
It is the Latin motto for the United States Marine Corps and it means, always faithful. Before another word is written, let me start by saying how much respect and admiration I had for the United States Marine Corps and all men and women who have made a sacrifice with their time, tears, blood and very lives for the country that I love so much... the United States of America. I take no pleasure and have no agenda to bash the Marine Corps or military service. As with any apology that precedes a point, this may sound a bit critical.
My wife is a Marine. She is proud of this fact and so am I. My wife has dedicated most of her adult life to the Marine Corps and the ideals and values that it espouses. She understands the concept of military service as a sacrifice and a constant struggle for battlefield superiority. The battlefield for her curren fights is her mind.
The Marine Corps, since its inception has been a bit of a boy's club. For a long time it has been a boy's club filled with boys who looked exactly the same. White, young, short hair, disciplined and completely faithful to the idea of being a Marine. As with all institutions in America, the Marine Corps has integrated its faces but the spirit of segregation still permeates its halls. Don't get me wrong, the Marine Corps has torn down strongholds and barriers faster than almost any entity but it is still catching up when it comes to "dealing" with the women within its ranks.
I speak of the Marine Corps as if it is a living breathing "thing" because in many ways that is exactly what it is. The success of Marines has been largely due to the core values that every Marine learns in bootcamp - honor, courage and comittment. These are very simple concepts to the able bodied Marine. They are even simpler concepts when dealing with a Marine who has been wounded in war or preparing for war. But what about the Marine that presents with a condition that has the potential to only affect 6.2% of the entire Corps?
Less than 10 percent of the Marine Corps happens to be female. Ten to twenty percent of women in the United States have Endometriosis. The numbers are not in the favor of the woman in uniform. My wife is struggling fighting a battle that she is not equipped to fight. She is trying to explain to a community of mostly men that at times she requires narcotics just to cope with a condition that many of these same men will never understand. Just the mention of any pain or complaint involving the female anatomy causes hardened Marines to scoff and roll their eyes. The deck is stacked against most women in the military without issues because being a woman in the military is an issue in itself.
I served in the Navy and stood amongst those who saw very little purpose for women in the military. I admit, the sexist nature and tone of military service infects even the most progressive thinking men. There are jobs that women are forbidden to participate in and duty stations that women are not "fit" for. Separate but equal is still very much alive when it comes to the woman serving in today's military. God forbid she complains when she is often the source of so many complaints.
My wife is hard. She is hard-charging, hard-core, and most of all hard-headed. She has a can-do spirit that can easily be nicknamed pride. She refuses to accept defeat with Endometriosis or allow her chain of command to put her in the "woman problem" category. I admire her tenacity but I am angered by the fact that a diagnosis is not enough for the Marine Corps to understand her plight. As with anything in life, we had to be touched by this disease in order to advocate for it. She deserves to be heard and understood when she proclaims that her pain is limiting but her service should not be.
I am so proud of my wife for standing up for herself and all women who suffer from Endometriosis. I have taken up the daunting task of educating myself and others about Endo to better understand it and how it affects the women who are affected by it. This is when she is the strongest and the most endearing, when she demands that her chain of command understand that this will not be fixed with a pill and a few days off. They owe it to her to honor her service as it has been honorable, to have the courage to stand with her as she endures treatment, and to remain committed to her as long as she proudly dons the uniform of a US Marine.
The beginning is often different for two people who may feel as if they are on the same journey.My voyage on this compelling trip began during the infancy of my courtship with Melissa. I served in the medical field while in the Navy and one day received a phone call from my then friend and next-door neighbor asking if I could bring her a heating pad home from work.Courtship being a game of chance and opportunity, I informed my supervisor that I had an emergency, grabbed a heating pad, a few pain meds, and raced home.My friend needed me and I needed an opportunity to escape the stifling confinement of the friend zone.I surmised that showing Melissa that I could be a compassionate partner during her time of illness was my chance.
Yes, I used my wife’s illness as a way “in” and I have no regrets.At the time, she explained that for most of her life she suffered from painful periods that could be incapacitating.She told me that she had learned to just live with the pain and endure.I wasn’t very familiar with the female anatomy so I faked it.I told her that this was common and that a heating pad and an anti-inflammatory would help.She accepted my treatment plan and I rushed to my house (next door) and consulted the Internet with her symptoms.Luckily, I was pretty close.There was no mention of Endometriosis just a condition called, dysmenorrhea or painful menstrual period.For about a year, I ensured to make myself available monthly to offer my sympathy and support during the dysmenorrhea I diagnosed.I was proud of myself because I had impressed the woman I knew then I would eventually marry and was even making headway in finding an expeditious egress from the friend zone.
The ibuprofen isn’t working!
These were the words she exclaimed as we rush to the emergency room.The hand donning her wedding ring was clutching her stomach as she winced in pain.I was panicking.I didn’t understand what was happening.I didn’t understand why a warm bath and heating pad wasn’t working.Nothing was working and now I found myself pacing in an emergency room wanting desperately for someone to give me answers.Luckily, on duty was a sympathetic doctor who wasn’t content with just writing a script and giving my wife a day off in bed.
How long have you had these symptoms?
“For as long as I can remember,” my wife replied to the doctor’s question.I turned and looked at her.My beautiful wife’s green eyes were tinted the same cardinal color as the bird of the same name.She looked tired as she answered each question wanting nothing more than to receive answers rather than give them.Next was the equally emotional and physical discomfort of a pelvic exam.She squeezed my hand as the doctor walked her through each step, pushing and prodding.My wife accepted the pain hoping that it was the penance for a cause.
Then it came, a word we had not heard yet, Endometriosis.The word seemed invasive and obtuse.It had no meaning and gave no insight of what was to follow.However, with all that it wasn’t… it was a reason.It was an explanation.It was something other than, “you’ll get over it.”It had more power than “just take these and get some rest.”It was proof that my wife was suffering from something other than an inability to cope.
We were told that tests would follow and that the road ahead would be long and laborious.We were told that Endometriosis had no cure, just a series of possible treatments.The treatments would generate more symptoms and even more questions.
We found ourselves at a stand still after so much progress.We found that though we had been traveling different directions at different speeds over very different distances we somehow met each other at the same place… the beginning.
