*This is about my wife’s, Shelby, pregnancy after infertility*

Wow, it’s ICLW already? Where is the time going? Thank you for visiting my little corner of the web.

I can’t believe our Level II ultrasound is here already. The first few months of this pregnancy went super slow, but now it seems as if time is speeding up. Shelby is already rounding the half way point. As I mentioned in my post, The Secret Pregnancy Handshake, I still feel awkward at times when people talk about our pregnancy. It’s out in the public, Shelby is showing more and more every day, so it’s hard to deny. However, there is a part of me that still feels like our struggle with infertility is now invalid. Maybe invalid is too strong of a term, but part of me still needs to pay recognition to our struggle. I feel very out of place when other pregnant woman are blissfully talking about what crib or stroller they are going to buy. Sure, I can compare notes, but all our concentration is about having a healthy baby boy. The crap we buy is so insignificant compared to that.

However, somewhat reluctantly, it’s time to really admit to ourselves that this baby is going to happen. It’s time to shop. I know it sounds a little hypocritical given my last paragraph, but I’m really looking forward to picking the baby gear out. Slowly, I’m feeling like less of a fraud and more like a real dad to be. It’s a hard line for me right now and I don’t know how to really act as a expecting infertile. I don’t feel like I’m in either sides “club.” I just don’t have that same click that fertiles do. Our path is different, even though we have a pregnancy in common. It’s an adjustment, and there aren’t really any books about this one.

On to the good stuff however. Our scan was amazing. We haven’t seen our little guy in a month, and this transformation was huge. It really looks like a baby now, perfectly formed. He is weighing 12 ounces now. We saw fingers, toes, hear chambers, feet, bones, and baby boy bits. Our little guy seems stubborn and moves right at the wrong time. He gets that from his mom Speaking of which, Shelby seems to be doing great. She has energy back, and is getting a beautiful, perfect pregnant profile. She looks amazing.

I do have one question though. While our scan went great, and nothing was a concern, our doctor mentioned that her placenta was a little too close to the cervix. Not close enough to be considered “abnormal,” but close enough to warrant a follow up appointment at 27 weeks. Dr. Google, who I have a love and hate relationship with, tells me that it increased the chance of a c-section (which we already are facing, Shelby has a narrow pelvis) and you need to keep an eye on any bleeding (duh!). I also read that in more server cases that pelvic rest is required (which we were not put on). The doctor did not seem concerned at all, as the  placenta tends to gravitate up as you get father along, but I’m curious if anyone has had any experience with this and can offer any input.

Finally, we got a few awesome shots. I’d like to share my favorite one with you (the cute shot of a button nose was my 2nd favorite.

I like to call this shot, “Two Tickets to the Gun Show”

I wanted to quickly update you on our combined test results from our NT scan. I know that you were on the edge of your seats…

Downs: 1 in 5,000
Trisomy 18: 1 in 10,000

We couldn’t be happier with these results. The good news keeps rolling in!

In a previous post, I blogged about how I’m “all in” with this baby and the first of such events are happening this weekend.

My parents are hosting an engagement party for my brother and his finance on Saturday. This is the first of many major life events this year, and I am so excited. Shelby’s belly is slowly growing (not to mention BOOOOBS!!!), and she’s beginning to actually look pregnant! It’s stunning.

We’ve been officially out of the closet this week, and it’s going to be awesome not having to explain why Shelby isn’t drinking. For the first time in our lives, we’ll be at a party where I can say:

“Why yes, we are pregnant, and couldn’t be happier!”

If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.

The following is a post that I wrote on Shelby’s blog in 2008. I have linked to it in the past, but wanted to re-post it here for posterity sake. It’s still one of my favorite posts ever. If you have already read this, thank you!

---

My wife mentioned to me that she posted pictures about a day in the life of an “infertile,” which contains pictures of things most men assume only exist horror movies, and raunchy pornos (or so I hear). So, I figured this would be a perfect opportunity to introduce you to a day in the life of a male infertile. Side note: this was at a time where I was in a particularly bad job, and events took place about a year ago. Without further ado;

A Bird in the Hand is Worth Two in the Bush (yes, you can read into that)
Today is the day where I get to actually lend a hand (ha!) in our reproductive challenges. I know this because my alarm goes off an hour earlier than it should. It should be an interesting day. Shelby reminds me that my appointment is at 7:30 AM and that she’s picking up my little soldiers at 10:00 AM. I silently hope that the fruits of my ‘participation’ are a lot of soldiers, instead of my usual ‘Army of One’. I roll out of bed, and get ready. Luckily for me, I don’t have makeup to put on, hair to curl, or whatever it is that takes you ladies so long to get ready. I’m out the door in 30 minutes. It is 7:00 AM; a half-hour should be plenty of time to get to my appointment.

Can You Hear Me Now?
Being someone who loves anything with a digital display and buttons, I love my tech gadgets. However, a cell phone can be a harbinger of doom. I’m convinced that it’s psychic too. It predicts my day. Is work going to be busy, annoying, light, or anything in-between? I know the answer within 5 minutes of getting in my car. My phone literally rings off the hook the entire time I’m in my car. My commute to the reproductive clinic is about thirty minutes. Instead of relaxing and reflecting on what may (or sadly, may not) be, I’m barraged with meaningless work related questions, false assumptions and over-reactive concerns. I arrive to the doctor’s office tense. Not just tense, but teeth clenching, jaw breaking, a whore in church on Sunday tense. You’d think with my impending ‘release’ I would be more relaxed, but it is quite the opposite, I assure you. My phone keeps ringing. I am now sitting in the parking lot, trying to wrap up a call with an angry co-worker and am struggling to remember where the clinic entrance is.

Cum Again?
I step out of the car and am caressed by the cool fall air. Today is one of those rare days where, somehow, the air kissing my face makes me feel much better- relaxed even. If this was a Folgers commercial, I’d close my eyes, take a sip of warm steamy coffee, inhale deeply, and smile to myself. I wonder what I’m complaining about. I get to wake up, look at some boobies and do what every 15 year old does when they find their first Victoria’s Secret catalog.

It takes me a while, but I finally find “Suite J.” I turn the door knob and am expecting to be greeted by a nice reception area (especially given how much all this fertility stuff costs). Walking into the clinic, something very familiar jogs my memory. The door rubs against the door jamb when I open it making a very loud sound to announce my presence, the smell of fake very artificial potpourri is in the air, there is almost no carpet between my feet and the floor boards are so worn, they creek under my feet. I have the vague feeling that I’ve been here before. It hits me; I’m visiting a shitty retirement home. The only thing it is missing is the obligatory old people on the park bench waiting for “Johnny” except, Johnny never shows. Instead of old folks waiting, the first people I see are a couple who looks nervous and a woman, sitting alone, waiting for her appointment. As a guy, walking into the clinic alone, I might as well wear a neon sign around my neck with an arrow pointing to my crotch that says “I’m about to tug on this.” Suddenly and expectantly, my tension is back. I pity the guy who has an easy time getting aroused at the smell of “grandma’s place.” I am sure they exist and live in the seedier areas of the internets. I consider creating a fetish website around this clinic, as I’m sure it will do well in said circles.

In Soviet Russia, Penis Rubs You
What I find most interesting about offices that revolve around fertility is that my expectation for a sensitive, caring, empathetic receptionist is not met each and every time. Funny thing is that I’m always surprised by this. This office is no exception. As I make my way through the creaking retirement home, I am greeted by a battle axe of a woman. Pleasantly greeting me would be way too cliché, instead, she stares blankly, and without much effort says “Name?”. As an aside, I am not a confrontational person at all, in fact I’ll work harder to avoid one than if a confrontation actually took place. I like to be overly friendly with people like this. “Hi!” I say a little too loudly and enthusiastically. “My name is (hmm, pen name time…) Johnny and I have a 7:30 appointment.” She looks at the loud ticking clock by her desk and scowls, its 7:45. She breaks down the process. “Put name on cup, go in cup, leave cup in room, and leave out the back.” My passive aggressive side kicks back in, “go in cup? I’m not here to pee.” I’d like to pretend that I’m embellishing this, but not really. I questioned being asked to “leave out the back” and she points to a partly opened door through what looks like the break room. I am then lead to ‘the room’.

Tonight on OMG KILL IT WITH FIRE
You know those episodes of Dateline NBC that reveal how disgusting motel rooms are? Let’s just say I’m very glad I didn’t have a UV light with me. I’m not the cleanliest person, but this room grossed me out. A little context here; I was THE FIRST appointment of the day. No one else has used this room and I was greeted with the following;

1. The obligatory leather chair that’s been so warn I can see where every bare ass has sat
2. A trash can FULL of used paper towels. Unfortunately, these paper towels didn’t clean up spilled apple juice.
3. The same creaky floors and good ‘ol musty smell
4. Volume buttons on the TV that do not work. On top of that, the volume is set a tad too high to be comfortable for the material I’ll be “enjoying”

In this disgusting room, somehow, I am supposed to produce what may become mini-me.

Everything I have gone over can be explained away, none of it really matters except one thing; What adult materials do I get to enjoy while working on, ahem, producing? Let me tell you, who ever chose said adult materials, is either blind, sick, or a cheap bargain bin-hunting asshole. Whatever happened to normal, attractive people porn? This isn’t it. Titles from their VAST selection of four are “Thai Me Up”, “Big Booty Bitches”, “Luv you long time 5” and (I kid you not) “No White Chicks.” I flash back to a conversation with my wife the previous night:

Her: “Why don’t you put some hot chick action on your iPhone”
Me: “Nah, knowing my luck, someone will start messing with my phone at work and two chicks loving on each other will show up.”
Her: “So what! Just delete it when you are done. I’ll even download some for you. Where do you find that stuff?
Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s pornographic material on the internet?” (I like to tell her and my friends that I keep my porn on her computer since she’ll never look there)

I simply do not understand the selection of these four titles. Maybe I’m in the minority here but just show me two attractive people doing it and I’m good. The sad thing is that the people, clothes, hair styles (and not the hair on the head), and production values are from the 70’s. There is nothing erotic about any of this. Watching the old married couple from “That 70’s show” do it on the linoleum flower counter tops would be more arousing. I curse myself for not following my wife’s iPhone suggestion.

You’d think it would end here, but it doesn’t. While the “act” is occurring, you can hear, through the paper thin walls, staff members laughing and talking loudly in the other room. When your pants are down, and you’re exposing yourself to the lovely “Big Booty Bitches” on the TV, laughter is the last thing you should hear. Ironically, I gain a little respect for the fat, ugly hairy man in the video who can get a hard on at the drop of a hat (or pants).

Eventually, nature takes hold (man, I got to stop with the insinuations) and I’m ready to get the hell out of this place. I always wonder how long you should wait after doing your deed. It seems nasty to walk out of THE ROOM with a flushed brow. In this case I could have walked out with my pants down because I was greeted to the receptionist pointing her meaty arm and sausage finger towards to back door asking me to “out that way.” God forbid the nervous couple and solitary woman see me leave the way I came in.

I walk out the door. The crisp air welcomes me once again and I let out a small sigh of relief. The fall air breathes its life into me and I am refreshed. Smelly grandma’s house is such a small price to pay in what could become the best thing that has ever happened to us. I silently thank Shelby for enduring so much; more than I will ever understand. I get back to the car; my cell phone reports that I have 18 missed calls and 10 voicemails. Time to start the day.

Please note that this post is about our pregnancy. Oh, and it’s really mushy too. Come back later in the week if you’re just not “feeling it” today.

By the way, to make reading my site a little easier, I’ve added “This post mentions” above most of my blog posts. Don’t forget to check that out before reading anything that you might find yourself not in the mood for.

---

I never realized it was possible to love something that you’ve never touched, met, or seen. Today, I am learning that it is not just possible, but easy. Let me explain;

Throughout the course of our marriage, I’ve found myself constantly learning what “love” means. Now, I find myself doing again. Today, May 5th, marks the day Shelby  and I first met. Our story isn’t that unusual. Boy meets girl. Boy finds girl REALLY cute. Boy wants to get in girls pants and so on and so forth.

Shelby and I met on a blind date while we were in high school. To fan the high school drama flames, we were set up by my ex-girlfriend’s best friend. She thought we’d hit it off and I agreed. Like most kids in high school, there was only one logical choice to meet: Starbucks. The plan was to be introduced over coffee accompanied by a comfortable buffer of mutual friends just in case there was no love connection. If things were looking good, Shelby and I were to spend some alone time at the second place high school kids go: Golf Land. Ahh, Golf Land; where arcade games, miniature golf and flirting are plentiful. Shelby and I hit it off, and the rest, well, the rest is history.

Over the 13 years that I have known Shelby, I have constantly re-evaluated what true love really is. Just when I think I’ve figured it out, I look at Shelby and realize that there is so much more room in my heart for love. I could easily go on for pages about how she is an amazing woman, or about how she can light up my world by just a simple glance in my direction, but this post isn’t about her. Well, it’s not about her directly…

On May 4th, Shelby and I find ourselves sitting in yet another doctors office as we wait to be called in for our NT scan. Honestly, we’re not worried about the scan, but since we’ve been collecting ultrasounds by the dozen, we figure it’s a great excuse to see the baby. Sitting in the uncomfortable office chair, I realize that I’m feeling an entirely new feeling at a doctors office. My silent, stomach turning  panic and fear has been replaced by something foreign. It takes me a while to place it. It’s… it’s… excitement. For the first time in 5 years, I am no longer afraid of a doctors appointment. I’m truly, 100% happy. 100% excited. For the first time ever, I’m looking forward to seeing our baby on the ultrasound and not being afraid. There’s no caveat. There’s no doubt. There’s just peace.

Our name is called, and we head into the ultrasound room. I’m greeting by a warm room and a huge flat screen TV waiting to show me our baby. Our scan was perfect (pending blood test results of course). It also marked the first ultrasound we’ve ever received that was using a doppler, and not the intimidating looking dildo cam. Well, intimidating to MOST men . As the NP presses on Shelby’s belly with the doppler, our beautiful baby is shown dancing on the screen. I’m amazed and awe-stuck. It no longer looks like a bean. There’s a baby! On the screen!

As I watch the flutter of the heart beat, stretching of arms, movement of legs, the doctor invited us to count fingers and toes. I never thought the count of 1.2.3.4.5 could be so amazing. I sit back in my chair, gaze over at the doppler on Shelby’s belly and a warm, peaceful, comfort washes over me. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I realize what it is; Love.

Love, redefined.

I’m staring at Shelby. I’m staring at her belly. I’m dumbfounded. Floored even. I feel so humbled by her and our baby. Here I sit, on the eve of knowing Shelby for 13 years, and I’m in love all over again. In an instant, my heart is broken down into the very core of my soul, only to be instantly rebuilt by this new and redefined love. I realize that not only do I have the room in my heart to fully and completely love Shelby, but I realize there is a new feeling there. It’s unconditional love at first sight. I fully and completely fall in love with this new creature on the screen. Love, for me, has been redefined again. I feel so full right now. So excited for the future. So in love with my wife and the little one inside of her.

Today, as I stare at a picture of our baby from the ultrasound, I realize that my understanding of love is truly changing.

I love Shelby.

I love this unborn baby.

I am slowly understanding this redefined love; By loving this baby, I’m falling in love Shelby all over again.

If there is one lesson I can teach our baby, it’s about true and complete love because it’s already teaching me what love really is.

Allow me the simple pleasure of sharing what love looks like;

As I laid awake last night anticipating our ultrasound today, my heart would not stop racing. I’m nervous. Nervous for myself, for Shelby and for our little one. I’ll cut the bullshit. I am downright, flat out scared and was reading into everything. I’m not a superstitious person, but I was looking for ANY sign. Either way, I just wanted to know how our appointment would turn out. The only signs I felt was my pounding heart beating from fear. Fear of loss, fear of being destroyed, fear for Shelby.

The only thing I could think about was when I imagined myself sitting down in front of a blinking cursor, ready to write a blog post telling you how our appointment went. The only thing I could actually visualize writing was news off loss, pain, and sadness. This freaked me out. I could FEEL my fingers type the painful words “It’s over. Fuck you fate!” I tried everything to block that vision from my mind, but I just couldn’t visualize anything else. My fear simply did not allow me to ever consider writing “Thank God, everything is perfect.”

Surely this was a bad omen?

As I mentioned in the past, we’re just going on 12 weeks of being pregnant. It’s a major milestone and it seemed like it would never get here. I felt every passing second that lead up to this appointment. We had about 3 weeks between ultrasounds and during this time, we hit our previous loss milestone.

I couldn’t comprehend waiting 21 days until our next appointment. That’s 504 hours, people! Eventually I found a trick to help pass the time; that was to simply view time differently. I made everything relative and it really helped pass the

There wasn’t a concept of weeks, days or hours. It became 2 more new episodes of Deadliest Catch until our ultrasound; 1 more episodes of new Family guy; 3 more breakfasts; and before I knew it, it was 1 more kiss goodnight until our appointment.

Finally, the day arrived, and as the hour of our ultrasound ticked closer, my perception of time was: 1 more kiss hello, 15 more foot steps to the ultrasound room, 1 Shelby laying down, 2 hands gripping each other in support, 10 pounding beats of my heart, 1 deep and final breath until we knew our fate.

All of this is the build up to the moment that I laid awake fearing. What will my blog post say? Was my omen of dread realized?

Time has passed, and is not longer relative. Finally, the moment I envisioned is here.

I’m staring at the blinking cursor of my blog post.

There’s only one thing to say:

Thank God, everything is absolutely perfect.