fathers, daughters, and TMI

So while my mother has remained silent about my surgery, much to my embarrassment, my father has not. Mom has only called and asked how I’m doing, she doesn’t actually know if they found anything.

As a child, I was a daddy’s girl. As I grew older, not so much. We disagree on many issues – the key being religion. He is very religious; I am not. The other issue is politics. He is very conservative; I am not. He believes everything our president says as well as everything on Fox News. I do not.

My father is a talker. Usually when he calls, he talks about his day or week. He rarely asks me any questions, and we usually end our calls with me saying fewer than 10-15 words. Which is usually better because he typically brings up an issue that I don’t really want to argue with him about anyway.

I didn’t actually tell my father about my surgery, my mother did.

When he called on Friday, he was oddly reciprocal. He finally asked, “Is there any way to test to see if the surgery worked?”

I asked, “What did mom tell you about the surgery?”

He said, “Some sort of fertility thing.”

And then he went on to say that he and my mother had suspected for years that we would have trouble having children. Very curious, I asked why.

Now you need a little back story. J and I met when I was 15, and he was 16 at an early admissions program where you complete your high school credits while you get about 65 college hours. We dated or went out or went out all through the remaining years of high school and college. When we went to “real” college, J lived in a dorm, and I lived with what turned out to be a miserable roommate. The following year (my graduation year at the age of 19), we decided to live together. We visited my parents to discuss the issue.

Apparently, during that conversation, my father brought up the possibility of a pregnancy (’cause we couldn’t have sex without living together?) and what we would do about it. I’m sure I was on the Pill at the time, and apparently tossed a glance at J and said, “Let’s not talk about that now.”

My parents took that to mean that I was having “feminine” problems and knew I couldn’t have children. Ha! I probably just meant that I wasn’t going to discuss the whole “children” thing with them.

So then my father added that they had also wondered over the years if maybe we didn’t want children. Which is true in some sense – we didn’t want them at certain times, but those feelings and situations change.

Then it got ugly for me. He proceeded to tell me how “regular” my mother has always been (in contrast to his sisters), and that she got pregnant with me the first time they tried. So my mother is one of those fertile women. And then asked if I was nice and “regular”. I don’t actually know if I answered.

He told me it was up to me when we had children, and I snidely remarked that it was really up to the doctor. Then he told me that it’s really up to God, and that the doctor is an agent of God.

I know some of you are very spiritual, so I don’t mean to offend. But – HA!HA!HA!

J has already sworn that he doesn’t ever want to have to be in a room with my father again, for fear that they will have to talk.

I said, “Only if I never have to be in a room with your mother ever again, either.”

I think we’ll stay home for Christmas.

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~ by Larisa on December 4, 2005.

9 Responses to “fathers, daughters, and TMI”

  1. i’ve found a conversation about fertility and losing a child can never be had with those that haven’t been through it as well. as much as they want to help by offering some “answer” it always comes out wrong or hurtful to us. unfortunately, there are times when i can’t avoid those conversations with those people so through the entire conversation i’m telling myself, “don’t get upset…don’t get upset…they just don’t know.” {{HUGS}}

  2. Oh goodness I couldn’t have even begun to have that conversation with my mother, let alone my father. Luckily my father is a strong silent type so this topic is NEVER coming up. Well done for getting through it.

  3. I’m so proud of you for getting through that. I wish I had your grace.

  4. I’m so proud of you for getting through that. I wish I had your grace.

  5. You weren’t a TAMS student were you?

  6. You weren’t a TAMS student were you?

  7. Oy. So sorry that your father was so insensitive. I’d been mulling over letting my father (also Catholic) in on our problems, but I think I’ll refrain now.

    I bet you and J could have a great Christmas by yourselves. However you end up celebrating, I hope all the parents are more supportive.

  8. Oy. So sorry that your father was so insensitive. I’d been mulling over letting my father (also Catholic) in on our problems, but I think I’ll refrain now.

    I bet you and J could have a great Christmas by yourselves. However you end up celebrating, I hope all the parents are more supportive.

  9. April-

    I did go to TAMS…

    Mrs. Hope

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