Hi Kids. Jade. Jed. It’s been ages I know…and I’m sorry for that. But I have Good news and Bad news…
As you may have heard, our IF journey took a drastic turn for the better about 6 weeks ago. That’s when we had the first ever SA result that wasn’t a Big Fat Zero. Hearing that result was an amazing moment, as I’m sure you can imagine. Here’s how it happened…
It was time for the next SA. Another three months of injections under the belt (if you’ll excuse the pun). It was with some reluctance I booked my appointment and scheduled my visit to the clinic…not really expecting any change…in fact, pretty sure that there would be no change in result. Your mom keeps quoting the fact that sperm takes 3 months to develop, and I haven’t been on this new protocol for much longer than that (not quite 6 months yet). Assuming the new protocol immediately started working, and my body was sufficiently developed to be able to start generating swimmers immediately, only then would there be any chance of a positive result from this SA. For there to be any sperm, my body would have had to start responding to the hormones pretty quickly to still give them the 3 months to develop…So, I wasn’t expecting anything…Doctor S had told us 9-12 months and it’s just a tad over 6…so, seemed like a pretty pointless exercise. These SA’s are bad enough, but the 3 days abstinence before hand sometimes feels like the hardest part (again, apologies for the pun)… But such is life and I dutifully booked my appointment for the Friday. Your mom’s not working on Friday’s at the moment, so she came with me to the clinic – not to lend a hand before you get the wrong idea, but to provide moral support (and more importantly for her, to drag me off to the shops afterwards). So, we arrived, checked in at reception and then sat down to wait. Hodges the White Coated Wonder called me through and, before giving me my sterile container, went through my paperwork just to confirm contact details, etc. He started going through previous results and I told him I could spare him the effort as all previous SA’s could be summed up with a Big Fat Fucking Zero. He gave me a sympathetic look and waved me off to what I now lovingly refer to as “The Wank Tank”. I’ve described it a number of times…and it never improves. So, minus some of the previous distractions I got down to the serious business of providing my sample.
That job accomplished, I gathered your mom and we hit the road, off for some shopping- yippee (insert sarcastic voice here). We were not even 10 minutes down the road when my cell phone rang, and, being the responsible, conscientious and law-abiding citizen that I am, I asked your mom to answer. It might be worth interjecting here that Cape Town has been subjected to an incredible amount of road works in preparation for the Soccer World Cup, and that some of these road works are managed in a very third-world manner. I was just driving through one of the worst patches (the M5 near the N1 junction) – when picturing this, think of some crazy computer game with lanes going in all directions, barriers and beacons every which way you look, cars swerving erratically and all this watched by 100’s of workers not actually working! In the midst of all this, your mom lets out a piercing shriek that nearly causes us to take an unapproved detour through two lanes of traffic, 6 beacons, a crash barrier and a 4 metre drop to the motorway below us. I wrestle the car back under control and to the sound of blaring horns, glance over to see your mom’s face. There are tears running down her face and I it’s not immediately apparent whether she’s ecstatic or devastated. She glances over to me and says/sobs … ”we’ve got motile sperm”.
I slow down as much as I can in the traffic, merging onto the motorway as she finishes her conversation with Hodges the White Coated Wonder. I’m in a bit of a daze, fighting back tears and the urge to scream at the top of my lungs. We pootle along the motorway in the slow lane doing about 60km/h while I wait for my heartbeat to return to some semblance of order.
We each sink into our own thoughts for a little while, not saying much, just thinking. I’m pretty sure we’re thinking very different thoughts…Your mom’s probably planning how soon we can start the first IVF, which hospital she wants to use. I can see on her face that she’s started mulling over names and schools and careers, how to redecorate the spare bedroom and what theme she going to use.
Me, I’m wondering how much Hodges is going to bill us for his lost productivity from the ringing ear he must be experiencing, I’m wondering if this could all be some sad mistake, could there have been a mix up in the lab – is some other poor sod being told at this exact moment that he’s got no sperm even though he had some at the last SA, and lastly whether it is at all possible that I may actually someday hold my own biological children in my arms…
It’s a wildly exciting time, not even dampened by having to tell my parent’s that I’ve been wanking and they’ve found sperm as a result. We spend the next few days just soaking in the possibilities and the results from this test. That little nagging doubt about the possible lab mix-up never leaves me, hiding just out of sight, leering over my shoulder, stopping me getting too excited. A call to the FS and he agrees that we should have another SA in 6 weeks and see if there’s any improvement.
In many ways it’s a very long 6 weeks…but we’ve been at this for so long now that in other ways it flies by. So, last Thursday I go through it all again…the retest. Deep down inside I’m bracing myself for bad news. I go through and this time it’s someone else who gives me my sterile container and points me in the direction of the Wank Tank – I thank her and assure her I’ve been through the routine a few times now. When I return to the lab with my sample ‘hot off the press’, the women isn’t there. There’s another lady lab tech. I hand her my sample, wondering if this is Miss Gorgeous Lab Technician again, but it’s been too long since I first saw her and my memory is terrible. As I hand over the container I ask her to do me a huge favour…I explain that the previous SA was my first ever that wasn’t a complete zero…would she please call me if this result is back at zero – we’ve booked to meet the FS tomorrow and if the result is a return to zero sperm, I’d really like to know before we’re in with him…need to be able to get over the shock and have our resulting questions ready. The Lady Lab Tech assures me she’ll call me if it’s bad news.
I head out the clinic and pop round to friends for coffee and a chat. They’re about the only people other than our immediate family and the other people we’ve met through IF forums who know our story. We sit there chatting about IF and my latest visit when my phone rings…they go silent, and my heart drops when it comes up as ‘number not recognised’…my heart drops even further when the voice on the other end says she calling from the clinic…I feel my hands shaking, I’m already wondering how your mom is going to deal with this when the lady says that we still have motile sperm – enough for IVF with ICSI. I heave an ENORMOUS sigh of relief and thank her for calling. The friends can see the news is good by my face and reaction and I hear two matching sighs from them…and finally I can let that hope in, I can really start believing…someday I WILL hold my biological children in my arms…I WILL, I know it, I believe it.
IT WILL HAPPEN.
And that’s the good news…the bad news is that you guys are almost 100% assured of having brown hair, brown eyes and be what is euphemistically called ‘big-boned’…it’s my fault and I’m sorry.
