Jon Waldman - Swimming Aimlessly: One Mans Journey through Infertility and What We Can All Learn from It

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First Tiller Press hardcover edition March 2021

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Interior design by Dana Sloan

Jacket design by Patrick Sullivan

Author photo by Ian McCausland Photography

Diving board by Picture This Images/Alamy Stock Photo

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Waldman, Jon, author.

Title: Swimming aimlessly / by Jon Waldman.

Description: New York : Tiller Press, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references.

Identifiers: LCCN 2020043443 (print) | LCCN 2020043444 (ebook) | ISBN 9781982143947 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781982143961 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: FamiliesPsychological aspects. | Interpersonal relations. | Infertility, MalePsychological aspects. | MiscarriagePsychological aspects.

Classification: LCC HQ519 .W35 2021 (print) | LCC HQ519 (ebook) | DDC 155.9/24dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020043443

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020043444

ISBN 978-1-9821-4394-7

ISBN 978-1-9821-4396-1 (ebook)

This book is dedicated to my wife, Elana; my daughter, Kaia; and the two angel babies we never got to meet.

This book is also dedicated to every couple who has walked through the infertility journey, especially those in my home city of Winnipeg. You are not alonewe are a community, together.

I t was a normal Tuesday in Winnipeg at the start of 2014unspeakably cold, the streets covered in snow and sand. Slipping and skidding in the River City at peak frozen conditions is more than just a sure thingits a challenge, bordering on sport. The evidence is all over the highway medians: broken bumpers, tire shreds, and puddles of antifreeze are as common here as palm trees in Orlando.

Despite this, I actually find driving therapeutic. Im one of those people who can get in their car and escape any pressure around them. During the summer Ill shamelessly blast the theme from Back to the Future with my windows rolled down. In winter my need for speed dissipates, but Ill still throw on my favorite tunes and sing along, head bobbing, dreaming that Im Marty McFly, getting ready to hit 88 and jump backward, forward, anywhere else in time (well, except 2020).

This drive, however, was a bit different. I was very unsettled as I drove toward one of the local radio stations for a guest spot. Nervous to be on air? Nope. Done it at least a half dozen times in the last couple of years. Unlike some folks, I dont fear public speaking. Id much rather be the guy giving the eulogy than the one who is being eulogized, thank you very much.

The year had already been a crazy one for me. With my third booka tome on hockey collectibleshalfway done and my primary employer changing ownership, I was scatterbrained, to say the least. I took a moment to collect myself outside the CJOB studio, where I would soon tell my most personal story to the listening city of 750,000.

I arrived at the radio station as usualabout twenty minutes before I was to go on air. As always, I was overprepared, knowing the message I was going to get across, and had a rough idea of what I was going to say. It comes with the territory when youre a spokesperson for a cause; you need to be ready for whatever curveball comes your way. Emotions can run high even when youre speaking for others who are voiceless, but speaking your own truth? Thats a whole other story. What was unusual was the topicsomething more personal than anything I had ever experienced or spoken about publicly. It was the first time I actually had a pre-planning session with a radio host, and even with that I wasnt 100 percent ready.

As I enter the station, the receptionist tells me to hang my coat and relaxshe will let me know when its time to head into the studio.

Relaxing is easier said than done, hard at the best of times when youre going on radio or doing any sort of live performance. There are stories of NHL goaltenders who routinely vomit before game time due to nerves. Im not that anxious, but still more so than usual. I study the framed articles on the wall about the Winnipeg Blue Bombers and their final game at Winnipeg Stadium, one of my favorite places as a kid that is no longer standing. Normally Id just go through my notes or check my phone for an update or two, but this time I scramble to find anything that might distract me, ease me. No dice.

Some time passes and the previous show guest comes out. I had only slightly been listening to the broadcast on the way to the studio. For the life of me I dont know whether he was talking about the lack of snow clearance in the city, hydro problems, or other governmental issues. My mind instead is working like a dedicated enginemy eyes have blinders. Anyone from Jennifer Aniston to Barack Obama could have walked through the room for all I knowIm getting into my zone.

Soon the receptionist motions that I can head into the booth. Gulp. The host, Dahlia, welcomes me. We do a quick recap of our previous discussion.

So were calling you Greg? she asks.

Its the first time Ive used a pseudonym on the radio. In the past I was always promoting a book, or a charity event. Today is different.

Today, Im talking about a failurethe failure, thus far, to have a child. When I first volunteered to be a spokesperson for the Winnipeg chapter of the Infertility Awareness Association of Canada (now called Fertility Matters Canada), I anticipated the call from radio, but I figured it would be two or three months down the road. Instead, it was weeks. Being a male willing to tell such a personal story made me unusual. Virtually all the faces and voices of the cause were female.