On Father’s Day, last month, my wife gave me a card that said “to my Amazing Husband on Father’s Day” on the outside and “I want you to know how blessed I feel to be married to such a wonderful man and loving father” on the inside. Three days later, she told me she wants a divorce. I didn’t see it coming.
We’ve only had sex two or three times since our five-year old was born. My sex drive had vanished. Average testosterone for a man my age is nearly 600 and nearly 400 for a 100 year-old man. My testosterone is 175 first thing in the morning and likely closer to 100 later in the day. When requesting testosterone replacement therapy, my family doctor strongly advised against it. Testosterone supplementation, I was told, sometimes causes testicles to shrink, breast enlargement, prostate cancer, and the inability to produce any testosterone at all. When I asked him if I should worry about problems arising out of hypogonadism—the medical term assigned to those of us having testosterone levels below 300—he said no. I should have found another doctor. I would have risked growing breasts if I had known I was putting my marriage at risk by not giving this supplement a chance.
When I complained to my doctor about being tired all the time, I was also sent for a sleep study. Apparently sleep apnea can reduce testosterone levels or low testosterone levels can cause sleep apnea, I’m not sure which. Despite having a healthy weight, I was diagnosed with mild to moderate sleep apnea. I tried the CPAP machine, but couldn’t get comfortable with the nose mask. I went back for a new full-face mask, but the one they sized me with turned out to be too big. I then went back twice more to find a mask that works for me and ended up with the lesser of the evils. After trying the machine for several weeks, I found that I couldn’t get through the night, or even half the night, with the mask on. I would fall asleep with the mask on and wake up with it lying in the bed next to me. I usually had no recollection of taking it off. The CPAP machine had a read-out that would tell me how long I wore the mask. I rarely exceeded two-hours.
Note that each return visit to try another mask fitting required an appointment during business hours, a drive to the doctor’s office in the opposite direction of my daily commute, time in the waiting area, etcetera. I thought I made a good-faith effort to make the CPAP work, but it seemed like wearing the mask, cleaning it, returning to the doctor’s office for follow-ups was turning out to be a waste of time. For various reasons, CPAP compliance, the percentage of those diagnosed with sleep apnea who actually use a CPAP machine long-term, hovers at around 50 percent. So, I’m not an outlier. That said, I would have kept trying relentlessly if I had known I was putting my marriage at risk.
In fact, my libido began to decline before our daughter was born. We were still making love occasionally, but for me, this was becoming more and more challenging. We found a sex therapist who gave us an assignment to shop for and purchase massage oil together and give each other massages. My wife loved it. I hated it. It only raised her expectations and did nothing toward resolving my problem. I assumed that sex therapy had not yet advanced enough to address my issue, whatever it is, and stopped seeing this therapist. In retrospect, I should have kept looking for the right person.
To be sure, my wife was clear that she was frustrated with my low energy and low libido, but wasn’t clear about the extent of her frustration. I was aware that this problem could end marriages in the abstract, but I wasn’t aware that she perceived the problem to be potentially marriage ending for us. I wish she told me to “try harder to fix this, or I’m divorcing you!” But I didn’t get any such warning. To the contrary, I received daily hugs, daily kisses, and daily “love you”s, among many other indicators affirming the strength of our marriage (e.g., aforementioned Father’s Day card). After 15 years of marriage, I was still in love with her and believed the feeling was mutual.
I’m grieving. And I’m mad at myself for not doing more. And I’m mad at my wife for concealing the extent of her suffering. And, most of all, I’m mad at both of us for not fighting harder, if not for each other, then for the sake of our young child. I told my wife that I am as sorry as I can be. I told her I didn’t realize how deeply she was hurting. I told her I’d try anything and everything, whatever it takes, to solve my problem and save our marriage. But she made it clear that this divorce can’t happen fast enough.
