The attempts continue

After we realized that baby-making was not going to be as easy for us as we thought, we figured we’d go through the testing procedures recommended by the clinic to see if there were any other impediments. Thankfully, after a few blood tests, and some incredibly awkward internal exams I was NOT prepared for, it appears as though we are biologically fit for the task.

Of course, I’m still of advancing age, and my husband’s sperm has turned into kamikaze fighters, but at least on the outset we didn’t have any additional issues. We were told our chances of conceiving normally, due to these suicidal soldiers was less than 2%. Which was pretty shitty, but we figured we had nothing to lose, so we carried on.

It took a few months for all the testing to be completed and for us to have another meeting with the doctor at the clinic. By this time, we had gotten married (more on that later, also) and were jauntily trying to overcome the odds stacked against us each month. Not surprisingly, this was unsuccessful.

So we decided to try IUI–which really, is just like overly-facilitated sex. The same mechanics come into play, but it’s done at a doctor’s office and timed as precisely as possible. I took the required superovulation drugs (which made me a crazy person), and my husband went off to the clinic to make his deposit. Just before I was about to leave myself, for the insemination process, we got a call and were informed that my husband’s sample contained zero sperm. Nothing. Nadda.

Um, pardon?

I mean, we knew they were being obstinate, but now they were non-existent? Needless to say, the hormonally-charged me took the news really well when we were told we had to cancel the procedure. Apparently the vasectomy reversal had reversed itself, and now my husband’s contribution was stuck at home–no highway out. We were informed that we needed to report back to the clinic together to discuss “next steps.”

“Next-steps” have become the bane of my existence. I envy those out there who’s procreation attempts consist of only one, simple, non-medically-facilitated step.

So now what? Well, now, we do what I feared all along–the one process that gave me nightmares and made my brain and my bank balance hurt. IVF. We simply were not going to be able to get my husband’s sperm to meet my eggs any other way. Regardless of our biological compatibility, now we have a plumbing issue.

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