We just got the bill for our frozen sperm storage fee, a nice reminder that we’ve been doing the IVF Tango for a year now and those little frosty spermies still haven’t made us parents. On the bright side, the $250 rent bill for their icy accommodations at our clinic is a bargain compared to day care.
It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since Mr. T went under the knife to “give birth” to half of our potential children’s DNA. With a pair of scissors (Mr. T shivers to recall this detail), the doctor went in and evacuated a tiny section of lucky little guys right from the source. I look back now and recall how hopeful and giddy we were the day Mr.T’s “B-Section.” (Balls-section ala cesarean-section: crude, I know, but we do what we have to do to make ourselves laugh about it all.) Surely we would be parents soon!
Up until that point, I had been terrified about IVF and to be honest- not exactly on board with the IVF plan after we got our devastating diagnosis. But Mr. T, my hero of a husband, never once complained about his lot. He said it was my decision, though I knew how much he wanted to try.
The fact that he was willing- even eager- to sign up for surgery in that very sensitive part of his manhood for the chance to have our child- made me realize all over again what a wonderful father he will make. It still moves me to tears to know he wants to be a daddy that much.
I think even worse for Mr. T was the prospect of the injections. My brave husband somehow managed to conquer his fear of needles and has given me every single injection over the course of two IVF cycles so far. I’ll never forget the pain and fear in his eyes when he first prepared that giant PIO (Progesterone in Oil) injection, so afraid of hurting me. I knew this was worse for him than having to go through his TESE surgery.
We thought this would be the worst of it. But then, after all this, we had to face loss- twice. Mr. T held my hand through the D&C and cried with me and was strong for me. Every step of the way, he’s been there for me, just as I know he will be for our children one day.
This isn’t to say that we never fight. Our biggest source of contention is that I talk and worry about IVF too much, and Mr. T never wants to think about it. Last night, after one of my usual rants about all the things to worry about with this upcoming cycle, frustrated that Mr. T didn’t seem to be adequately worried, I finally threw up my hands in exasperation;
“WHY aren’t YOU worried about all of this?”
Mr T. put his arms around me, and said the words that chase away my demons, at least for the moment:
“Because I love you and I know that we’ll be ok no matter what happens.”
And at least for the moment, I know he’s right.
Across town, half our potential baby’s DNA is on ice, frozen in time and waiting for their next big audition in April. If I ever get the chance to meet the baby that comes from this tiny frozen swimming pool, I’ll tell them how their daddy is the bravest, most loving man in the world.
No matter what happens, I know I’m already lucky in life and love.