“Well i’m afraid with the low sperm count and the motility issues with your sperm, I would put you and your wife’s chances as very low. I can’t medically say that it is an impossibility, but frankly, I would put the odds near 0.”
It’s been nearly 7 months since my wife, Marissa, and I began actively trying to conceive. She was settled into her job at the local K-8 private school as the replacement Kindergarten teacher. That was about a year and a half ago. Since then, I’ve noticed a cheeriness about her that hadn’t been there before. There’s plenty of folks out there that would see what she passionately does for a living as a hellish nightmare. Sometimes, my work filing customer records and payments as an insurance broker feels like a breeze compared to managing that many children all day. Marissa, though, was born for the role. All the other teachers loved her, and the kids did too. Most nights she comes home telling me the funny things one of the kids said that day or what arts and crafts project they did.
Which is no wonder, then, why us finally having one of our own came up. I know Marissa loves her work and wouldn’t give her job up for any other in the world. Any other job, of course, except being a mother. While she never said it, I’m sure watching and caring for other’s children is hard when you’re young, fertile, and built for making babies like she is. And she truly was made for babymaking. Her wide hips, large CC breasts, and beautiful features would yield healthy, strong, and beautiful children. Me on the other hand..
“Griffin? Did you hear what I said? I know this can come as a shock to you, but there are other available options for you both to consider. Why don’t you go home, talk with the wife, and both come in on Monday so that we can go over options. ”
Which brings us back to the news I had just received. After all those (very enjoyable) months of trying, the issue was mine. I had feared the worst. Especially after “submitting” my sperm sample into the plastic cup and having the moderately attractive nurse come in, examine the cup, and ask if I needed more time. Now I knew that there not only wasn’t a lot of it, but my few swimmers were lame ducks.
That night, after a few beers to meditate on the news and break it to the wife…
“So what did Dr. Kagney say were our options?”
“I’m not sure. He wants you and I to both go in to meet with him on Monday and evaluate them.”
Marissa was taking the news much better than I had thought, yet I could sense an inner sadness and disappointment to not be able to get what she wanted.
The rest of the week went on, semi-normally, and I made sure to make that appointment for Monday. She wasn’t visibly upset or angry, but she was certainly more quiet than usual for the rest of the week.
Monday morning in Dr. Kagney’s office, after a long wait in the reception area
“Fortunately for you both, there are plenty of viable options out there that have made many couples such as yourselves very happy.”
Marissa, visibly doubtful, asked “Options? Like some sort of treatment to make Griffin’s little, um, swimmer guys, work better?”