I think it was some time in 2002 when we realized that after a few months of seriously trying to get preggers, that nothing was happening. I had bought those spit-test ovulation kits, the pee-on-a-stick thingies, read Nona Aguilar’s “No Pill, No Risk, Birth Control Method” (which actually helps you establish when you ARE fertile), but there were no pitter-pattering little feet on the horizon.
So we sat and talked about it. We could go see a doctor and have them do invasive and expensive tests on me, or we could use that niftly $40 test kit from the drugstore by FertilMarq for my husband.
He didn’t like that idea.
I said that after taking the two tests, if things were hunky dory on his end, I would cheerfully go see a doctor to have me checked out.
Two tests later and we were making an appointment with a male infertility specialist. Mike had a very low sperm count, what few that were moving, were mostly shaped wrong and moving slowly.
They also decided to check me out as well in case it was a two-sided thing. Luckily I checked out fine. But the doctor was sorta kinda maybe sure that my husband had varicaceles. Those are enlarged blood veins in the testes that were possibly giving his ‘guys’ a jacuzzi.
During this time, by the way, my husband was on a strict no-coffee, no jacuzzi, no swimming in cold water regimen. He’s Japanese, they LOVE hot baths!
So my husband agrees to surgery so they can tie off the varicaceles.
After he came home from the hospital for two weeks of bedrest, I was sort of reminded of a pet cat I had had when I was in high-school after she had gotten spayed.
Anyway, I catered to his every whim, set him up with a pot he could bang on with a spoon if he needed something, we had a large soda bottle for when nature called, and Ifed him nourishing soups.
Three months later, when his guys should have recovered, we got the results of the latest spermanalysis: no change.
Then we moved to Florida and the saga continued…