I’m going to take a break from my usual failed attempts at humor to tell you what’s actually on my mind this week. I hope you’ll forgive me.

I wrote in my inaugural post that Dom was a miracle. It’s true. We weren’t supposed to have children. Kerry has endometriosis, a disease that causes endometrial cells to grow outside her uterus. These cells react to the body’s hormones and can cause severe abdominal pain and infertility. As many as 10% of women have the disease, but symptoms can vary widely in intensity. Some women only find out they have endometriosis after they’ve had trouble conceiving. Others have very minor cases medically speaking, but have intense pelvic pain. The symptoms are rather vague, and as a result endometriosis can be difficult to diagnose. Kerry burned through three doctors who told her to suck it up before finding a doctor who correctly diagnosed her endo.

On Friday, Kerry will go in for her fifteenth surgery in about 7 years. She’s been scoped twelve times, had a partial hysterectomy, and then a follow up surgery to remove her remaining ovary after cysts began to form and burst each month. Friday’s surgery is designed to remove scar tissue from her previous surgeries and remove any endo that may have remained after the last round. Surgeries to repair damage from other surgeries – someone please explain that one to me.

One appointment we’re being told that the endometriosis is fed by hormones and a hysterectomy will stop its growth. After the pain resurfaces, the story changes to endometriosis can continue to grow after the ovaries and uterus are removed in rare cases. I trust Kerry’s doctor, but mostly just because he seems as frustrated as we are.

Only after watching a friend anxiously prepare for his wife’s appendectomy did Kerry and I realize how numb we’ve become to the whole process. The first few surgeries we prayed for a full recovery and an end to the pain. By the tenth we’d changed our tune and asked for Kerry to feel good 90% of the time. At this point, I think we’d both be happy with 80% and a heating pad that warms up a little faster.

Like most men, when I see my wife has a problem, I want to solve it. It drives me CRAZY that I can’t fix this one. I hate that she apologizes to me when she doesn’t feel well. I hate that she feels guilty when the pain prevents her from being the wife and mother she wants to be. I hate watching her brow furrow when someone asks when we’re going to make Dom a big brother.

But mostly, I just marvel at how strong she is; how committed she is to running around the house with Dom even when it hurts; how hard she pushes herself to be there for her family; how freely she loves me and our son. She is so intensely compassionate to other people, while asking for so little in return.

I married an amazing woman – a woman who I believe was created to be Dom’s mother, just like I believe I was created to be his father. He makes us complete. Sometimes when I feel like my prayers travel unanswered out into the abyss, I remind myself that God answered our most fervent prayer . . . in spades.

• Endometriosis: Part Deux
• Dom went as a Nasty Virus for Halloween
• Heir to the Throne
• Choices
• Pacifier Addicts