RITKISS

We had our first son without a hitch. That is in the getting pregnant part, the whole being pregnant and giving birth part is another story for another day. We readily wanted to have more children, both of us come from very large families and we never considered having an only child.

Our oldest was a year, and we had not been using contraceptives for at least six months. I went to my doctor for a routine check-up and mentioned the problem. He looked at me and said, “We know he works,” pointing to my husband, “let’s get you working.” So a series of clomid was prescribed. I hated clomid, the mood swings, the timing of the medicine and the cycle testing. According to the tests I was clearly ovulating, but I showed up not pregnant.

My husband went to his doctor for unrelated symptoms and casually mentioned we were trying to conceive. He promptly said, “That’s an easy test,” and sent him home with a specimen cup in a clearly disguised paper bag.

He did his test and we didn’t think much of it. I was still on clomid, and it was surely to work our next cycle. It was close to Christmas and we were busy with all the festivities. A week before Christmas we received a phone call from the lab with my husband’s results. A chipper nurse informed him that they saw nothing there and to make an appointment as soon as possible with all the medications he was currently taking. My husband was taken back…all of my medications? if there was ‘nothing wrong’ why did the doctor need a follow up appointment, and why did he need to bring the medications he was taking with him? He asked, “Wait a minute, what do you mean there is nothing there?” His mind raced as he realized the true meaning of her words “nothing there”. She must have meant there was nothing there, not nothing wrong. The test revealed that there were no men in his se[a].

The next few days were dark, dreary and clearly without joy. Here it was Christmas with our little boy, and the furthest thing from our mind was celebrating. Our dreams of a house full of “pitter-patter” and joyful play from siblings were dashed and torn into little pieces of nothing. I could not find joy, I tried, mostly for my little boy, but I couldn’t. My dreams had been ripped away, without even a warning. We conceived so easily with our first. Why wouldn’t other children come?
This was only compounded by my husband’s job loss six months earlier. The news of no more babies and having to work full-time (while my husband returned to school) threw me into a spiral downward of despair and awkwardness. All I could see were round bellies and cheerful stay at home moms. I was neither. It felt like more than I could bear. Friends would excitedly announce the forthcoming births of their children and all I could do was stare.

Then the questions started coming; “when are you two ready to have another?” “don’t you think your son would love a little brother or sister to have around?” or “don’t you think two years is the perfect timing between kids?” All well meaning inquiries, but how do you tactfully say, “Our chances of conceiving another child are zero, did you hear that, zero”. And when I would explain things to well meaning family members, they would look at our son and say, “if he is here, another miracle can happen.” I would come home after family gatherings and cry, rant, rave, or scream. I know everyone was trying to be kind, but how can they understand how I felt when their children were running around and their bellies were swollen with the next child on the way.

The worst part were the “oops” stories. I loathed the stories from mothers that
talked about how they were now pregnant with their second “oops” baby. “We forgot once,” or “we just thought about another baby” rang in my ears. Everyone was getting pregnant but me. It was a cruel joke, and I felt as if everyone was laughing at my empty womb.

More than those stories were the headlines about Brittany Spears and other less than perfect celebrities sporting their extending middles and the on again off again boyfriends. How come they were pregnant? (I knew that answer) Why couldn’t I get pregnant? Didn’t I want a baby? Wouldn’t I make a good mother? Wouldn’t we love and provide for another child? Did my son really have the future of an only child, destined to walk alone after we were gone?

I couldn’t shake my frustration, anger, fear and guilt. It was wrong of me to feel this way, but I did. I would be so angry about the situation, and then the wave of guilt would hit. I had a son, so many didn’t even have that. Why did it bother me so? Couldn’t I be grateful?

And one morning, a morning so dark and dreary I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed my husband leaned over and whispered, “Ritkiss.” I turned and looked at him and said, “What?” He leaned in, “Ritkiss, baby.” “What do you mean?” I asked incredulously. It was a nonsense word that couldn’t possibly help me out of bed. “Ritkiss, R, T, K, S …remember to keep smiling.” “Remember what?” “Remember to keep smiling,” he said again. “Life has its way of getting us down, but we can’t let it.” “This is part of our life and we got to keep going” “I can’t live my life without your smile.” He poked and prodded my sides until a smile and a giggle came unwillingly across my face. “We can’t let this get the best of us, Ritkiss.” I got up, got ready, and headed out the door with a smile on my face for the first time in weeks.

Fast forward four and a half years and we can look back to that phrase, “Ritkiss” as a turning point in our lives. All of our pains, struggles, and longings are encompassed by this phrase; a determination to continue forward despite our struggles. We eventually did conceive our second son, after arduous attempts with in-vitro (a story for another day). So when our two-year-old empties a sack in two seconds flat, or hits his brother and grins, we think of our journey and realize our two-year-old tornado is our love, joy, and greatest miracle. So as I tell the stories of his shenanigans, understand we love him and wouldn’t know what to do without him.