Boys and Girls, gather around and let Uncle S. tell you a story. I’d like to tell you about a young, naive man about to embark on his first IUI. Sit down and lets take a journey to about 3 years ago and I’ll tell about how Mr. Shelby was once a young, strapping and fiscally secure lad.
It’s the eve of our first IUI and I was almost child-like in my infertility innocence. Oh, the days when I didn’t know what OPK or BFN stood for. My more serious, hardened and fiscally broke-ass self would look sternly on this naive man and quietly shake my head knowing that the road would be long, daunting, and filled with doubt. However, younger Mr. Shelby knew nothing of that path, only that Mr. and Mrs. S. would be doing their first IUI and would be having a baby in 9 short months.
The day came where we’d do our IUI. My head spun as the nurse walked us though a dizzying course of events and all I really remember about that was that we’d be waiting 2 weeks, then we’d take a pregnancy test to find out if it worked.
I was stunned.
In 2 weeks we’ll be pregnant.
2.fricking.weeks!
To0 many thoughts are going though my mind at once and I can’t keep them straight. This is going to fast. Am I ready for this? How are we going to afford it? I just spent $300 on this IUI. This crap is expensive. Take a prenatal? Are you nuts, that’s like $60 bucks a month!! Bleed my dry, why don’t you doc! I have to provide a sample? You want me to do what in a cup? How is that going to work? I’ve barely learned to aim when I take a piss and I STILL get it all over the toilet seat. How are you going to expect me to his this target?! Why the hell is this cup’s opening so sharp and small?
We’re doing something called a double insemination? What’s that? Oh, well why didn’t you say something sooner?!
Let’s get this party started. Where’s Shelby, maybe no one will notice if she slips into the “man room.”
Fast forward a few hours. Shelby has her legs up in the stirrups, and our NP was attempting to manuver some strange torture device into Shelby’s lovelies. I was so nervous at this point. I’m witnessing my wife get knocked up. We’re both unsure of what to do or say, and I find myself reverting back to a thirteen year old idiot. My only escape was misguided humor. I don’t really remember what I said at this time, but I do remember making Shelby laugh. Hard and Often. She frequently would be laughing so hard that she’d push the tools that our NP was using straight out of her. Our NP was not amused.
A wise crack about “does this mean I can tell people that I was with two chicks at one time when you got knocked up?” caused the NP to glare at me as the instruments she was using was flung out of Shelby with force. I barely held it together after that. I tried my best to make small talk and not say something stupid (again) as Shelby laid there for the prerequisite 15 minutes.
As Shelby dressed, collected her things, and walk out of the building with me I thought:
“We’re pregnant and man, that didn’t seem so bad.”
We’ve battled infertility for 5 years, and to this day, I can say I’m a better man. However, I can’t say that I have always been been a shining example of zen that I’ve strived for. I’ve experienced a range of emotions ranging from intense joy, as well as deep sadness. It’s amazing how those emotions, and everything in between can pop up at any day.
This day, I am a TV sit-com wanna-be Dad, I am Danny Tanner without the Full House. I get up, shower, shave, dawn my long sleeve collared shirt, slacks, dress shoes, and walk down the stairs while humming to myself, happily. My wife hands me my coffee, and a brown paper bag. Here’s where the similarities between sit-com dad and I part. Let’s just say, this brown paper bag does not contain a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Her: “Sir, this is the Geriatrics desk”
After 5 years, we still walk the path of infertility. 7 IUI's, 1 miscarriage, 1 IVF and tens of thousands of dollars later we find ourselves pregnant. The path is still not clear, but we take it one step at a time.
