Long time no see…

For those of you who’ve heard the results of our fetal assessment scan a few days ago, to avoid confusion, let me state that I wrote this post on Thursday afternoon, the day before our scan, but never managed to complete and post it…but am posting it now…

Hi Jed. Hi Jade…how you guys doing?

Now’s when I normally apologise for not posting in ages…and then give the reason for the latest blogging hiatus…and today’s no different – I’m nothing if not consistent!

But this time, the reason is a little more exciting than normal…this time the reason wasn’t a bleak and sad delay causing a lack of comedy, it wasn’t concerns over privacy or readership, it wasn’t a pause because nothing was happening in our lives and there was nothing to say…in fact, it was exactly the opposite. The cause for the lack of blogging was the incredible fact that we are now pregnant!! Yup, we’re knocked up. Our oven is no longer devoid of buns…and that it’s twins…so we’re well and truly knocked up! Twice!!

And that has resulted in a lack of blogging.

Go figure…

Truth is, it’s not been all peachy since I last chatted to you guys. Last post was written in the ward awaiting retrieval for our third IVF cycle…and it didn’t end well. BFN…actually, I’m not watching my language this time…it was a BIG FUCKING NEGATIVE!

We weren’t happy. In fact, I was distraught – for some reason I had convinced myself that ‘third time lucky’ was going to be us…that we’d played the odds and it was now certain to be a success. I had somehow managed to con myself into knowing this 3rd IVF was definitely, no doubts about it, gonna work.

But, it didn’t, and I couldn’t believe it. I had this strange and incredulous WTF feeling. I just couldn’t believe it hadn’t worked – I was utterly shell-shocked.

So we did what most people would probably think was a crazy thing – we phoned the clinic back the day after our BFN and told them we wanted to do an IVF the very next cycle – back-to-back cycles…no breaks, no pauses to catch our breath, no time to come to terms with the failed cycle and the increasing sense that we were never going to succeed…nope…straight back in there…back on the horse, (or, more accurately) back in the stirrups. Yeeha, giddyup.

And that’s exactly what we did. And boy am I so glad we did, because for us, it was 4th time lucky…hey what do you know…it worked.

Now I could tell you all about our emotional state, how we seemed to invest so little emotionally into the fourth cycle, how for the previous 3 cycles I had all the milestones marked off in my calendar and how this time there wasn’t a single mention of it anywhere, how in the previous 3 cycles we got excited and discussed names and nursery themes and spent countless hours talking about what it would be like to have kids and how during this fourth cycle we did no such thing – it was like it was happening to other people. Once the decision was made, how we never discussed any of these things. How when the test day approached that I was convinced that this was going to be just another shitty negative in a growing line of negatives and how I was more worried about getting the two of us through dealing with two negatives in a row, as we’d never really dealt with the preceding failed cycle…but I won’t. I really believe that I had invested so much of myself emotionally in our third cycle, that I was numb after the failure and so it seemed that going straight into another cycle wouldn’t hurt as much when that one failed too. That I didn’t have the strength to get too emotionally committed to this fourth cycle.

What I will tell you is that the result of all this, was that we were totally unprepared for the positive – that we were blown away by the high and alarmingly rising beta’s – well above the triplet pregnancy beta’s on beta base! I’ll tell you how excited and scared shitless at the idea/probability of multiples we were, that we couldn’t buy anything because we didn’t know how many we would need…1, 2, 3, 4, more???

It’s been an incredible 10 or so weeks since we got THAT phone call from the clinic. It’s been an emotionally draining time. There were many tears when we walked out of the scan room from our first scan after the positive and all the clinic nurses were lined up and waiting for the results.  Who would have thought that there would be tears when leaving the fertility clinic? But there were – your mom cried like a baby at the last scan at the fertility clinic when we said goodbye to our super Doctor S and discussed our hand-over to our new gynae.

The tears haven’t all been good – we had a scare with spotting early on, there have been lots of tears for friends who have had BFN’s, but by and large it has been an incredibly positive and exciting time…but with caution always there, worried about getting too excited, getting too smug in our ‘pregnancy-ness’. So, as with everything infertility related, it’s been an emotional and conflicted time.

So, you might ask, why blog now…and the truth is that tomorrow morning is our 13 week foetal assessment scan. Exciting milestone – absolutely…but why blog now when all the preceding exciting milestones have been whizzing by for the last 13 weeks without a single typed word??

And the answer to that is simple…tomorrow we will hopefully find out exactly what we’re having…we know there are two little babies in there…but we don’t know their genders…and this is a big thing!! For almost 17 months now, I’ve been writing to you guys. Granted, not as regularly as I should have, I know. But always I’ve written these posts to both of you, Jed & Jade, 1 boy and 1 girl…In this time, I’ve imagined you guys in our lives, I’ve pictured the four of us doing all sorts of things, the things a normal family does, and I’ve always pictured the two of you as a boy and a girl…and from tomorrow morning onwards, those images and pictures in my mind’s eye might all be wrong…I might need to readjust all of these daydreams and imaginings to fit in with the new reality we will be shown tomorrow morning during the scan…will it be two boys, will it be two girls, or will it still be my lovely Jed & Jade…I just don’t know.

The odds aren’t any help in this instance – there’s a 50% chance (roughly speaking) of a Jed & Jade outcome….but this means there’s a 50% chance of a different outcome – whether it’s a ‘dropping Jed for another girls name’ or ‘dropping Jade for another boys name’.

And this all of a sudden seems a big deal to me. It feels like I need to get a last post in before reality can intrude. I need a last chat with the Jed & Jade that have become such a big part of my life over the last while. I need one more small moment, just the three of us, just in case my next post starts with different names…and so this is why I’m writing to you now.

I needed to tell you how important you two have become to me, how you’re helped me cope through a tough few years, how the thought of you two coming into our lives has helped me cope with the 350 plus injections, the countless embarrassing or difficult situations I’ve faced in this time, how you’ve given me the motivation to keep going, to keep trying, to keep hoping. I wanted to thank you two for giving me the end point, the dream, the reason why we’re subjecting ourselves to all we’ve been through and why we do so with a smile on our faces.

You two have been there for me to talk to when I felt like there was no-one else, you’ve allowed me a sounding board to help me understand my own thoughts, to clarify my own feelings. You’ve been the catalyst that got me writing, that keeps me writing (if somewhat erratically), that have allowed me to express things in a way that I would struggle to verbalise, and in doing all this, have helped me communicate with your mom, as well as, in some strange way, with myself.

And so, Jed, Jade…before the results come in and things might all change, I want to say a very big “Thank You”….it’s been a blast, and if things are different from tomorrow onwards, I will still always think of you two…

Déjà Vu

Well kids, it seems that after a bit of a break, we’re back here again…I’m sitting in the little curtained-off area around your mom’s bed in the fertility clinic ward – yup, it’s retrieval time again…serious case of déjà vu!!

She’s donned her sexy arse-in-the-wind clinical strait-jacket, covered that with a little silk dressing gown she borrowed from nan, and is alternating between reading her book and responding to messages on her blackberry, trying to pretend she’s not chomping at the bit, that she isn’t counting the seconds into minutes calculating how long it is till 9am – we’re first on the list this morning for the theatre, so it’s likely to be 9 o’clock sharp.

And, in keeping with this sense of déjà vu, I find myself typing the next sentence…

I know it’s been a long time since we’ve chatted, and I know I’ve said that so many times before.

I have a problem with the blogging thing now…since the Carte Blanche interview and coming out the closet so totally, I’ve had second thoughts about blogging to you guys…the anonymity has gone, I worry about who might be reading this and what they might be thinking. Before the TV interview, it was easy to believe that the only people reading this blog were other infertiles, the vast majority of whom, I’d never meet. But whether I would be someday having coffee or dinner with them was immaterial, because at the end of the day, they’re infertiles. They understand. And if they don’t understand exactly, they can imagine, because they’re experiencing similar trials and tribulations. I can write about the embarrassing experiences of infertility, I can talk about medically sanctioned masturbation, I can openly discuss the strange thoughts and feelings this whole experience evokes…and because they’re infertiles, when I meet them, knowing they’ve read these deep and dark secrets, know that they know that until just a few short months ago, I wasn’t producing sperm, and I can still look them in the eye with no embarrassment (well very little anyway).

And, as much as I’m writing this blog for you two, for your mom and for me, I put it on the web, in the hopes that it might help other infertiles to see things from a guys perspective, to hopefully help the women out there to maybe understand what their husbands might be going through, and also hopefully let any guys out there know that they’re not alone.

But that’s the infertile readers…now that we’re so totally “Out”, it’s ridiculously easy for anybody else to find the blog. Nothing brought this home more than the fact that I received phonecalls from complete strangers straight after the TV interview aired, and still do. Never mind finding my blog, they’ve found my home phone number, connected to me on Facebook, sent me emails…

A huge part of me is thrilled when I get these contacts…the phone call a few weeks ago from a gentleman in Pinelands who wanted to talk to me because his daughter and son-in-law were struggling with infertility and he had no-one else to talk to…that’s special, feels like making a difference.

But the flip-side is that fertiles could be reading this too. People who don’t understand, people who may not be able to put themselves in our shoes. It might be people I have known for years, acquaintances and work colleagues, my mother, my sister, my father-in-law, my brother-in-law…and it’s not that I specifically have a problem with that, but it does make me take pause before writing, wondering if the things I say may inadvertently hurt them or make them uncomfortable.

It’s difficult to write about the ups and downs of this experience when you’re wondering if your family will understand, how they will react if you post about having second thoughts about having kids, or how spending time with your 15 month old niece is such a bittersweet experience every single time. How it totally melts you inside when she sees you and gets all excited and smiley, and how depressing it is every single time that I watch her being strapped into her car seat and the car seat going back into my sisters car. How it leaves me feeling horribly jealous and sad.

I’ve wanted to post about many things, nothing more so than our Christmas holiday – 6 nights rough camping on the beach with nan & granddad, Aunty K and her husband, their daughter and stepson. Absolutely awesome and the kind of thing your mom and I love above all else and totally thrive on…but how watching my sister with her 15 month old daughter and 9 year old stepson impacted her holiday. Sitting back and realising the challenges of travelling and camping with small children, how different it would be, and wondering if I was really up for that. Wondering whether my dreams of travelling Africa, South America, the Far East would become virtually impossible with kids in tow, of just how different longs days on the road are when you have a board toddler (or teenager for that matter) with you. And how this all trigger the biggest period of doubt since we started this journey to conceive. But I would hate for the family to feel like we didn’t want to spend time with them.

I wanted to post about friends of the family trying (I assume) to be sensitive and not invite your mom to a big baby shower, but how this actually hurt her all the more than inviting her but saying you would understand if she didn’t make it. But would hate for them to know how much it hurt your mom, because they were, I believe, doing what they thought was best.

And there are many of these sorts of instances, things to write about but concern about who might be reading it…

And the result of all of this…no blogging…

I won’t promise to be a better blogger – history has proven that to be folly, but as I sit in this cubicle, waiting to be beckoned to the wank tank while your mom is wheeled into the theatre, I feel like I’m closer to you guys again, that the period of doubt has passed, that I know I do want kids, and we’ll continue doing what we can to get them.

And if we’re going to do that, then I must work through my concerns about who else might read these posts, because, at the end of the day, they’re really for the four of us: me, your mom, and you two special people…our children.

Staring at the wrong side…

Hi Kids,

I’m very conscious of the fact that I often seem to start a conversation with you guys, by apologising for the long time since my previous post. It seems to be a recurrent theme, and as you read through these posts (or as I do anyway), the cause is fairly obvious. Most often, any significant gap in my posting has been caused by my going through some kind of issue, something that’s causing me to stop and think for extended periods of time, rather than just write… most often a crisis of faith.

Now when I say a ‘crisis of faith’, I’m not talking about me having doubts or issues around some existential god-like figure, not questioning religion or my beliefs. No, the ‘faith’ in questions is almost always about Infertility: my belief in our success in bringing you guys into this world, my faith in us overcoming these seemingly unscalable hurdles, my thoughts on having children versus living child-free.

But this time, my reasons for not talking to you guys a bit more frequently have a slightly different reason.

You see, this second IVF cycle was tough – a strange comment when you hear that we never even made it to Transfer! But it was, it was really tough, it was way harder to deal with than the failed first IVF cycle. It’s left your mom and I reeling a bit, we’ve taken a knock the likes that anyone stepping in the ring with Mike Tyson would expect, our sails are well and truly windless.

Because, in a cruel way, for the first time since we discovered we had sperm, we’ve been faced with the idea that this still might not happen for us, that you guys may forever be virtual and imaginary, that we may never get to hold you and nurture you and watch you take on the world. And this has left your mom and I pretty down and depressed.

And this is the reason I haven’t been chatting to you guys.

I don’t want this blog, these conversations, my posts to be negative. I’m not trying to hide the darker side to the emotional toll of Infertility. I don’t want to pretend that the sad and depressed days don’t exist. I don’t want to hide the strains it places on us, our relationship, our finances, our lives…but I also don’t want to harp on about it. There are enough people out there blogging about the downsides of Infertility. I want you kids to understand what we’re going through, but it doesn’t mean I need to tell you all about the bad things in the minutest detail. I don’t want to dwell on the pain, we can wallow in the self-pity without dragging you into it.

And that’s why I haven’t posted for a while…because this time, it wasn’t a crisis of faith, it was a crisis of comedy. I ‘ve been struggling to find the funny side of things. I’ve been unable to write to you without it descending into negativity and self-pity…and no-one wants to read about that…least of all you two! The last thing I want is for you to feel guilty about what we’ve been through to conceive you…after all, it was our choice, our decision, and you could do nothing about that. It’s enough that you know it wasn’t easy, because that may give you some inkling into just how much your mom and I were willing to endure to have you, how much we wanted you, how much we love you…and that’s the important thing.

I fantasize about you guys reading these letters when you’re both a certain age. Something we can give you when you’re old enough to understand. And I want you to enjoy reading them, to laugh, to cry but most of all to understand.

So, it’s because of the mood I’ve been in that I haven’t posted – this crisis of comedy. And this mood is because of this latest cycle that went so horribly wrong.

Our IF journey has not been typical – maybe a gigantic understatement, I know. Most couples decide they want kids, and then start trying the old-fashioned way – flowers, dinner, candles and rose petals round the bath overflowing with bubbles, Barry White schmoozing from the hi-fi and then some horizontal dancing (okay, this might be the VERY old-fashioned way, but you know what I mean). Then after a year of that they pootle off to the doctor, because by this stage they’ve run out of bubble bath, the unattended candles have burnt the house down once or twice, one of them has finally recovered from a rose thorn induced infection while the other has developed a nasty allergy to rose petals or massage oil or silicone lubricant, they’ve both got sick of Big Barry and his annoying voice and reached the stage where the horizontal dancing has become something that’s scheduled in a work-like manner (they’ve probably both got it in their Outlook calendars like any other work appointment), an appointment that’s slightly dreaded each month, that’s approached with a dutiful sigh in much the same way as any other household chore. They see their doctor who may give them some advice and send them off for some more DIY conception attempts, or may refer them to a fertility specialist (and may end up doing this referral a few month later when the poor couple come back telling the doctor that he can stick is crummy DIY advice). Then they head off to the Fertility clinic…

From there the scenario’s diverge depending on the causes of IF, the treatment options selected, the success and failures of these treatments…but there’s a natural progression, a sort of general order and escalation process. It might be trying again at home (oh god no!!), but using an OPK (ovulation predictor kit) to make sure the sex is timed to provide ulterior motives to the usual recreational reasons – and the sooner they wi-fi enable these OPK’s the better – because then it can automatically email the Outlook appointment and reschedule it if required based on that morning’s test results. It could send reminders and set off alarm bells when ‘the time’ has come. The couple may be recommended to take certain supplements to increase quantity and quality of any output, they may move up the next step to medicated cycles, then maybe IUI. Generally speaking couples will try a few IUI’s before IVF is even mentioned. But if they don’t work, then it’s on to the Big Cahuna – IVF. But that also has its starting points and escalations – beginning with straight IVF, like a Delia Smith episode – take 5 parts eggs and 140 million parts sperm, mix in a medium-sized petri dish, let stand for 5 days at gas mark 2 and viola. Next step is ICSI – take 1 part egg and 1 part hand-selected sperm, combine forcefully and observe regularly till morula develops, at which stage return to oven and wait for 10 days before testing. Maybe straight ICSI isn’t enough, so they try PICSI or IMSI and maybe throw in a pinch of PGD for seasoning or add some IVIg or an Intralipid infusion to the mix. And it’s often only when these couples have tried IVF (or any of its permutations) a few times that donor eggs or donor sperm come into the equation (unless there was zero egg/sperm in which case this would have of course been included earlier in this exciting journey). Then there’s the surrogacy option. and for many, the final option in this journey of many steps is adoption.

Obviously (before I get flamed to death by irate readers who have had a different experience), this progression is very general. There are many people who skip stages, reverse orders, and/or who don’t see adoption as the last resort. But, “sweeping generalisationally” speaking, this is the normal (and I purposely didn’t say ‘natural’) progression.

But not us….Noooo. Why be normal…or why start now in any case.

We start off spending years thinking adoption will be our route to parenthood (if we ever decide we definitely want kids). End of story.

Then, (roughly) 2 years ago, your mom’s biological clock starts ticking, loudly. Scrap that, it starts ticking VERY LOUDLY. So, pregnancy is required. Well then, donor sperm it is then. End of story.

Actually, lets seek medical advice first. Doctor does SA and tells me ‘not enough sperm for a count and definitely not enough for natural conception’ – so the horizontal dancing is purely recreational and no need for the OPK (web-enabled or otherwise), Big Barry, flowers, bubble bath, fancy dinners, candles, massage oils, or my Outlook calendar – they’re all surplus to requirements. Doctor refers us to FS (after putting me back on testosterone injections which it turns out was not the best thing to do, but that’s another story). FS says he wants to do tests, but it sounds like IVF or donor sperm is going to be the only options. SA at fertility clinic comes back as Big Fat Zero…no sperm whatsoever…Donor sperm IUI it is then (dIUI). End of story.

We (well mostly your mom if I’m honest) do a bit of research on Secondary Hypogonadism (my diagnosis many years ago). Find The Pituitary Foundation. Your mom convinces me to get in touch and ask them if they have any experience in getting someone with my condition to produce sperm. They come back with positive answers and protocol suggestions. They do say that it could take two years with no guarantees, but there is a quick option that should give us some indication within a couple of months as to the likelihood of success of the longer treatment option. So it’s back to the FS for a discussion. Test protocol it is then…a few months of injections, regular blood tests – no response. Not going to work. donor sperm it is them. End of story.

Hang on a sec, change FS – communication/language problems with the old FS leaving us uncertain. Same clinic, new FS. He tells us treatment option ‘will work’. Long discussions – 1-2 years of injections with no guarantees (other than the FS saying it will work)…what the hell…lets poke me full of holes on a very regular basis and have SA’s so frequently that they may name the Wank Tank (the clinic’s andrology room) after me! 6 months later – first ever SA comes back with ‘some motile sperm’. Donor sperm out of the picture then. Sperm count perilously low, ICSI is the only option – no timed DIY sex, no medicated cycles, no IUI’s, no IVF – it’s straight to ICSI for us. Keep at the treatment protocol, and schedule our first IVF with ICSI for a couple of months time. 5 follicles, 4 eggs, 3 embryo’s,  3 transferred (although the third, ‘Runty’, isn’t in peak physical condition) = CYCLE FAILED.

2nd IVF planned, 5 or 6 follicles, 2 eggs, 1 fertilised, never develops past fertilisation = CYCLE CANCELLED.

Nothing transferred…story still ongoing…to be continued…

Now that I get here, I can’t remember the whole point of telling you about our journey versus the ‘traditional’ journey…I think it was something to do with the fact that we didn’t follow the normal progression, we didn’t get used to months of trying with disappointment after disappointment, we never felt the safety of knowing that if this didn’t work, that there was always another more complicated but more effective treatment option available. We didn’t pass ‘Go’, we didn’t get our $200, we went straight to the end of the line…and the problem is, that it feels like if this doesn’t work, that that’s it…we have no idea of how the story will end.

And, unfortunately, this last cancelled cycle has brought it home to us that even though IVF with ICSI is the most advanced Artificial Reproductive Technology procedure there is, it still may not be enough for us.

And this is the reason we’ve taken such a knock, why your mom and I are battling to keep the depression away, why I’m struggling so hard to see the funny in things. And when I can’t see the funny, I don’t want to write, and when I don’t write I don’t get to talk to you guys…and I don’t want that either.

So, I will try my damnedest! I will look for the brighter side of things again, and stop fixating on the darker side…I’ll hopefully chat to you a bit more frequently…and maybe just maybe, by talking to you two, I’ll find the funny again…because staring at the dark side isn’t gonna do it, of that I’m certain.

Check it out…

Just a very brief post to let anyone interested know that the segment that was played on Carte Blanche Medical this week is now up on the MNet website.

It’s at this address and is in two parts. The first part has the drawing of the brain and pituitary gland as the link and the second part has the urologist they interviewed as the link.

Please go have a look if you’re interested…and pay particular attention to the mention of The Pituitary Foundation as well as the Fertilicare Forum (which you can even see us browsing on the laptop).

Thanks for watching…

After all the excitement…

Well, it’s been an interesting and stressful couple of days!!

Coming out of the closet about your infertility is one thing, but doing it on television is something a little different.

I couldn’t believe how nervous I was straight after we got the phone call saying the preview had gone out on Sunday night…and the nerves just seemed to escalate, ratcheting up steadily until about 2 minutes into the episode…I spent half of Monday wondering if a heart-attack was imminent!

I spent some time trying to figure out just why I was so nervous. Sure, coming out the closet about MFI isn’t easy at the best of times, but this was ridiculous. And the conclusion I came to was this…

Normally, when you tell people about your infertility, you have some control. You can’t control how people are going to react, but you can control when you tell someone, you can control exactly what you tell them, how you phrase things, how much detail you go into, how much emotion you will show. And, ordinarily, you have a feedback loop – you can see the person’s face, judge their reaction, their comfort levels with what you’re telling them, their interest, their level of understanding, and adjust your message accordingly.  And, maybe most importantly, who you tell.

When thinking about agreeing to be interviewed, I never really appreciated what a difference that all makes to the whole experience.

The thing that had me in cold sweats was that this interview was going to be aired without me having seen it first. I had no idea what the finished product looked like. I had little idea of the angle they were taking, the slant, the point they were trying to get across. I had no idea what our doctor had said to them. I had no idea of what they were including and what they were cutting.

And I was also having difficulty in remembering exactly what I’d said during filming…

So I was feeling stressed. Seriously stressed.

But, by far the biggest concern to me, was the fact that without being able to view the finished product first, I had no way of knowing if there were mistakes in the programme. I, maybe somewhat melodramatically, felt that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to connect to people who may be experiencing infertility and feeling those sensations we all feel at some stage – feeling alone and confused, frustrated and embarrassed, ashamed and clueless. This was an opportunity to talk to them directly, make them realise they’re not alone, make them realise you can talk to people about it, you can find support and information, you can be infertile and still be a man. And the last thing I wanted, was to waste or dilute this opportunity, by being in a segment that was factually incorrect, overly emotional, or made us look like fruitcakes. Because then nobody watching (and particularly none of the guys watching who have MFI) would take it seriously. They wouldn’t be inclined to talk about it. They would dismiss it. It would have been an opportunity totally wasted.

I think we can all agree that Infertility is a pretty complex and involved issue. Besides all the emotional, financial, relationship and psychological intricacies, there is an unbelievable amount of technical complexity. There’s a host of complex procedures, aimed at circumventing a plethora of medical issues resulting from a gargantuanly complex group of biological parts, organs, chemicals and systems. Knowing your ICSI from your IMSI and your FSH from your LH or AMH, knowing the difference between a varicocele and a vas deferens is not something for the uninitiated. And that’s exactly what the producer was – someone being thrown into the very deep end of an emotionally charged, technically challenging and jargon filled subject.  The potential to mix things up was immense. I’ve been living with my diagnosis for almost 20 years and I still sometimes feel like I could do with crib-notes.

It was while trying to get all our information across to Angus, the producer, that is suddenly dawned on me that this was a herculean task. For someone who hasn’t been intimately involved in IF, producing a 100% technically correct segment for television is a tall order. And this is what was bothering me so badly…the potential for factual errors that could invalidate the entire piece.

They obviously have a fairly tight time frame to produce these segments. There clearly isn’t time to get everyone involved to preview the segment before it is sent to the Carte Blanche studios. It would also be impossible giving everyone a preview as the natural tendency would be for them to want to provide feedback and suggestions, wanting to tweak the segment to each individuals own view…so it doesn’t happen.

And I know that if I had been producing it, it would have been very very different.

But, having watched it now a couple of times and having discussed it with a few people, I realise that what I would have produced would not have been any good.

It’s a big topic, and you cannot possibly cover it properly and in-depth in an 8 minute segment. You can’t begin to deal with the strain MFI puts on you, your relationships, your bank account and your life. You can’t begin to explain the depths to which it changes your life when your wife is in constant pain and you are the cause. You cannot even scratch the surface of the way it affects your perceptions and feelings. There’s no way you can deal with the myriad of potential reasons for MFI, the treatment options for each of them and the prognosis for these treatment options.

So, all that’s left is for you to pick a story, tell the basics, back it up with knowledgeable experts and focus on getting one or two messages across.

And I think that’s what they did. So I’m happy.

I’m also very chuffed at the importance shown of the Fertilicare forum. How valuable it is to have a safe place to talk to other infertiles, to get support and advice. Them showing us on the laptop browsing the forum, including the links to the forum on the MNet webpage and mentioning the forum in the voice-over was great…the kind of thing that might just encourage infertiles watching to get online and have a look. And I really believe that this could make the difference…Because, by logging on and having a look, those people will have started doing something about their infertility, acknowledged they have a problem and that sitting back isn’t going to solve it, that reading and (hopefully someday) posting on the forum may be the first steps in overcoming their infertility.

And if nothing else, hopefully it’s got the message out there that yes, MFI is embarrassing, but it’s a medical condition that is not our fault and it’s nothing to be ashamed about.

So maybe, just maybe, some guys out there will stop and think. They may not be ready to talk to friends and family, they might not be chomping at the bit to share their story with anyone and everyone, but maybe they will look over at their wives/girlfriends and start the process by talking to them…and if that happens, all the stress will have been worth it.

We’re gonna be on National Television!!!

Completely buzzing at the moment…just had a call from Lesley who was watching Carte Blanche and they aired a preview of our interview….So it looks like out interview will be aired on national television in South Africa, tomorrow night (Monday), 19:00-19:30 MNet…

I guess we’ll officially be out of the closet now – although, I suppose, we’re already out to anyone who saw the preview…very very exciting, but slightly terrifying!! We haven’t even seen anything since they left our home on the day of filming…so could look like complete idiots…who knows….

I just hope that there are guys out there who will watch or hear about our interview and seek medical assistance from a proper FS, or at least feel like MFI isn’t the end of the world. At the end of the day, the only reason I decided to do the interview was in the hope that I could spread the message that MFI is embarrassing, of course it is, but it’s nothing to feel ashamed about….and let’s hope that whoever edited the piece, made sure that if nothing else, that’s the message to get out there…

I hope my heart isn’t going to be pounding this hard al night and all day tomorrow as we wait to see ourselves baring our souls on national television….

Gulliver’s travels come to an abrupt end…

Hey Kids.

Well, it’s been a very difficult few weeks – maybe the most difficult few weeks since we started trying to bring you into our lives.

We tried another IVF cycle…but it’s finally been cancelled – didn’t get to transfer. And somehow, this cancelled cycle was harder to cope with than the negative first cycle.

So, following my theory of blogging being my cheap-ass therapy, I thought I’d tell you guys about it…then I can move on.

Before I start, I best point out that all facts and figures are subject to correction…I have a pretty useless memory (maybe, when I was a foetus, it developed on the same day as my shitty pituitary gland!!). In fact, my memory’s about as useful as a waterproof teabag. That’s one of the many reasons I keep your mom around…she’s like a living breathing calendar, diary, PA and fact-checker all rolled into one adorable package. Which means that all the numbers, dates, facts & figures will no doubt change not long after I post this, when your mom sends me a scathing email correcting all the inaccuracies in the post…

We decided on CD1 to go ahead and have another go at IVF. It was a last-minute decision because there’s been a lot going on in your mom’s life the last few months, and with her women’s prerogative to be difficult, we weren’t sure when exactly her previous cycle would end – so planning wasn’t really an option with her being so irregular lately.  But, as fate would have it, her period started just the day after all the hectic work stuff was over (and she’d seemed to have dealt with the scattering of her mom’s ashes a few weeks earlier as well). So, even though we’d planned to leave it another cycle before plunging into IVF#2, we didn’t.

We got the meds, and she started shooting up as required. BTW our cleaning service who come in once a week must think we’re running some sort of drug den. With the amount of paraphernalia in our bedroom bin hitting an all time high when your mom’s stimming, over and above my weekly plethora of jabs…honestly, it’s terrible. I can only imagine what they say about us behind our backs. In fact, I’ve taken to cleaning out all the bins before they get there…just to hopefully prevent the imminent police raid.

Then it was scan time…CD8. We were excited to see how things were developing, to get a handle on the clutch your mom was brewing…the fantastic Dr S arrived and proceeded to wield the wand…and we were all surprised to see one follicle way out ahead of all the others! This one was huge (I’d write here that it was already 15mm while the other 5 or 6 were only 6 or 8mm, but your mom will correct me, so I won’t).

I immediately named this one follicle ‘Gulliver’, because he was making the other follies look like Lilliputians. I took this as a sign of my genetics at work – I’m a big guy whilst your mom is vertically challenged. I don’t want to be rude (well that’s not strictly true) but no-one from your mom’s side of the family has ever seen what’s in the top of a kitchen cupboard – they need a ladder to change the light-bulb in a bedside lamp – they still use those little padded booster seats at the hair-dressers – they can only buy items from the bottom two shelves of their supermarket …lets just say she comes from a long line of short-arses (how’s that for euphemism).

But anyway, there was Gulliver – storming ahead and making all the other follies look like midgets.

Over the next few days and scans, the Lilliputians made a gallant effort to catch up, but it was just too big a task for them – there was Gulliver, taking up two or three seats in the ovulation waiting room, probably taking the lions share of the hormones and nutrients, overshadowing his miniature maybe-siblings.

As we approached Retrieval, things were looking good – your mom’s lining was thickening nicely (thanks to some increased meds), there was Gulliver raring to go, and 5 or 6 smaller follies – smaller, but still at an acceptable size to give us hope of a good haul during ER. Your mom gave herself the trigger injection on the Wednesday night, and Friday morning, we were at the clinic before dawn had cracked, ready to aspirate us some eggs.

I was nil-by-mouth again, just in case my sample had regressed back to a zero count. I was still nervous at this precaution, more because it seemed to signify that the doc/prof thought this might actually happen, than anything else…saying that, the thought of the prof playing hide and seek with my testicles, whilst holding an excruciatingly sharp instrument, still didn’t excite me!!

I was a little nervous, but was actually looking forward to what comical and embarrassing things your mom was going to say or do when still under the influence of the sedative.

The nurse came to collect your mom, and the lab tech came shortly afterwards to hand me my trusty sterile container… So, while your mom was having the walls of her vajayjay poked full of holes as they navigated the shortest route to her ovaries, I was back in the andrology room once again. I was startled to notice a new addition to the pathetic ‘inspirational’ material…a photographically illustrated guide to the Karma Sutra…I thought this was definitely worthy of investigation…how wrong I was…it seemed to me, in the 5 second flick through, that the photographs seemed to consist mainly of shots of some guys bum and a women’s legs and feet…in different positions I’ll grant you, but still hardly worth the hassle (and definitely not in the least bit inspirational).

Anyway, I did what I had to do, making sure to tell my sample in no uncertain terms that there damn well better be enough swimmers in it to prevent me from having to have my balls shaved within the next few hours! I handed my no-longer-sterile container to the smiling lady, and resumed my seat in the IVF theatre waiting area.

I short while later, Dr S came out with a disappointed look on his face. I was expecting him to tell me there was going to be an extra charge for the procedure because Gulliver had turned out to be too big for the extraction needle and they’d had to improvise using a rubber hose and a toilet plunger to get him out of your poor mom…but it was worse than that. They’d only recovered two eggs. The remaining follicles were empty – just full of mucus. He assured me they’d had an extensive rummage around, and in fact, called in the other embryologist (Hodges the White Coated Wonder who it turns out is quite the dude!) and asked him to double-check. Very disappointing, but, I was assured, 2 beautiful eggs.

I knew immediately that this was buggering up our chances, that it was going to take a ‘lottery-win’ style lucky streak to achieve our baby this cycle. The doctor said he wanted to make an appointment to see us in a few weeks time, regardless of how this cycle panned out, and this immediately started me worrying that this was a sign of things to come, that we were going to be told we had female factor infertility issues to add to the equation.

I didn’t really have much time to mull this over before they wheeled your mom out of the IVF theatre. She was awake, and this time not sobbing…I thought this was good news, but it didn’t take her long to start – she was absolutely distraught at only getting 2 eggs. And, to top it off, it seems the shock of the bad news brought her round much quicker – she never said anything funny or embarrassing, which was very disappointing!

The following day’s Fert report just piled bad news on top of disappointing news – only one embie showing signs of fertilisation…and even that one was behind the curve…only showing two polar bodies, when we would expect it to already be showing two pro-nuclei…so not good at all. Still, we were basing things on our previous cycle, so were still holding thumbs. And the news over the next couple of days just confirmed our fears – the one remaining embie had fertilised, but failed to cleave (divide).

We were due to go in on the Monday for Transfer, but the nurse called us when we were literally 5 minutes from the clinic to say that they wanted to postpone till the Tuesday to give it one more day to see if the embie did divide and develop. Got a call on the Tuesday morning to say the Prof was cancelling the cycle – Gulliver never progressed past the Fertilisation stage – two pro-nuclei, but no division/growth…and that was that.

These last two paragraphs really cannot convey the stress and emotions over the period from Friday’s ER to the cancellation phone call on the Tuesday…these were some of the hardest days we’ve ever had to endure, and certainly the hardest days since this journey began. The terror that we were both experiencing that this may be a sign of egg issues and a resulting death knell to our bio-kid dreams, was indescribable. Your mom spent the most part of these 4 days sobbing her heart out, and I spent them trying not to. I told myself (and your mom) that this was just one of those things, just a bad cycle, nothing to read too much into…but as much as this felt like the truth, it didn’t stop the worry and fear that this wasn’t the case.

The nurse, during Tuesday morning’s cancellation call, asked us to come in and see the Prof the same day. So, just a few hours later, there we were, in the clinic waiting room yet again. We were a lot calmer, we’d both really given up hope on Gulliver after Monday’s phonecall, making Tuesday’s phonecall just seem like the inevitable conclusion to a terrible few days. While sitting in the reception area and marvelling how quiet it was (two of the three docs were out all week), one of the nurses came over and sat with us and had a chat. She was so genuinely sad and apologetic (it turned out she was the one who had been making the update phonecalls to us all weekend). I’m even positive there was a tear in her eye as she expressed her sadness and tried to encourage us. It was really special.

Then it was in to see the Prof. He was incredible. He started off saying that he wanted us in to go through the cycle in detail and to encourage us. To allay our fears that the bad egg numbers were not a sign of disaster, that based on your mom’s blood work results previously, that we shouldn’t be worried, that this was just one of those things – a bad cycle. He reiterated that every cycle is different, that we shouldn’t give up hope and that he wanted to discuss our plans going forward. It was then that he explained that it was the clinic’s policy to refund as much as possible in the case of a failure to get to transfer – to make it easier for patients to have another go. There was also the fantastic news that my sample provided on the day of ER was showing an incredible improvement over previous result – 1 million little swimmers and 40% of them a-swimming – not too shabby for someone who had absolutely zero just a few short months ago. And so, with the Prof’s encouragement, the encouragement of all the nurses we saw, the vastly improved semen results and the considerable refund, we left the clinic two very different people.

Yes, of course we’re still devastated that this cycle went so badly, we’re obviously gutted that Gulliver’s travels (and his siblings) never progressed further than the lab petri dish, but we haven’t given up hope. We’re feeling positive again and planning the next cycle. There are some tweaks and details to take care of in the next month or two, but we will get right back on this horse, because that’s the only way we will defeat this IF demon.

So we will try again, and we will succeed…

Close call…

Hey Kids.

Been a while again since I last chatted with you…and a lot has gone on in that time.

I’ve written a few tongue-in-cheek guides for other guys going through Infertility – hoping that it may help to talk about what I’ve been going through, what I’ve been feeling, what I’ve been experiencing. And maybe by talking about my experiences, it’ll help other guys out there to analyse their own feelings and experiences, to be prepared for what’s coming.  There’s also the potential that it may help other women out there to better understand their men, maybe gain a little understanding of what they may be feeling because us guys are not known for talking about these things – which makes it a little hard on our significant others.

In the same vein, I agreed to be interviewed by Carte Blanche Medical for a segment they wanted to do on MFI. This was a big step, from being practically in the closet about our Infertility and treatments to appearing on national television talking about my testicles…it’s more than a big step…it’s a giant leap…it’s two giant leaps.

And, to top it all off, we’re in the middle of our second IVF. In fact, I’m sitting in the ward at this very moment, typing away as your mom sleeps off the effects of the sedative used during retrieval. I could tell you about the scans, the injections, the crushing disappointment we’re feeling at this moment in only getting two eggs… but I’ll leave that to your mom to tell you about – it sometimes feels like the actual IVF is all about her – very little input required from me…

So, with all that going on, what you may wonder am I going to talk to you about…

I thought I’d talk about something that seems to be ignored or slightly taboo in the Infertility community – like the black sheep of the family, or the dreaded illness that no-one wants to acknowledge, something that when mentioned, is mentioned in whispers and hushed voices. The big hairy wart on your nose that everyone knows is there, but refuses to comment on…and I’m pretty sure it’s something that many many infertiles go through at some stage in the journey…and it’s summed up by one word…”Doubt”.

For many years, I decided I didn’t want kids…I’m sure that any psychologist will tell me that this was almost 100% as a result of being told I couldn’t have any – the way I overcame the depression that hit me when the reality of my diagnosis finally really sank in. So, it was 14 odd years of telling myself I didn’t want kids. Then, we started on this journey 20 months ago, after your mom broke down and told me how loud and persistent her biological clock was ticking…how there was this almost physical need for a child, this ache to be pregnant. I agreed to go to the doctor, knowing full well that it was the thin end of the wedge. Knowing that the doctor would lead to the Fertility Specialist, which ultimately led to multiple weekly injections. But the thing was, in those first few months, I was just going along with it all to make your mom happy.

But a strange thing happened…as I slowly opened myself up to the idea of trying to have kids, the more medication I took, the more doctors visits we sat through, and as a result of the growing number of conversations we had about having children, I slowly shed this protective cloak of ‘not wanting childreness’ and let the truth finally see the light of day – I do want kids. I want everything that goes with having children – the good the bad and the downright messy – warts and all. This feeling grew, until there were times where I almost felt like I could also feel some physical biological need – like having phantom pregnancy symptoms, I was having phantom biological clock ticking symptoms. It was in one of these periods that I started imagining you guys into existence, imagining names and personalities. It then seemed like a natural extension to start talking to you (maybe a sign of too many years working from home alone!!), and so started blogging.

But, it’s a long journey. It’s a 24/7/365 kinda thing this Infertility. There’s no time off, no escape, no vacation from the sensation that there’s some missing part of your lives. And it’s tiring. Like any prolonged experience, you go through phases, there’s a natural ebb and flow to Infertility. There are days when it’s like you’re missing an arm, and then there are days, when it seems like such a huge over-reaction. There are times when you’re positive, and times when it seems like the lights have been turned off. There are moments when it feels like a mountain on your back, and yet you can go for days where it’s as light as a feather. And sometimes, these peaks and troughs are a few seconds and other times it’s weeks. But it’s always there…

And this is one of the reasons I haven’t talked to you guys for a while again. I can make excuses about being very busy with work, the whole Carte Blanche thingy (which seemed to take up an awful lot of my time, considering the filming only took two hours!!), a short-notice drive to Namibia and back in a 36 hour period. But these would all be excuses…because the truth is, a couple of weeks after our failed first IVF cycle (and I purposely haven’t called it our ‘first failed IVF cycle’), I had that big hairy wart staring me in the face. That black sheep of the family was sitting across my desk from me, that dreaded illness was in the air all around me – I was having doubts.

Not doubts about whether we were on the right medication, whether I wanted one or two kids or even three, whether I wanted boys or girls. Not doubting that my sperm count and quality was going to continue to improve, nor that our FS is fabulous, nor doubting about the decision to come out the closet about our Infertility…Nope, I was having the BIG CAHUNA of IF doubts – I was doubting whether I do really want kids.

Now I’m pretty sure this may have been a strong and natural reaction to the failed IVF cycle. The extreme disappointment of that negative after transferring two superb embryo’s and an ‘okay’ embryo. A natural reaction to doing the banking and adding up the costs of the cycle that gave us zero ‘return on investment’.

It was the understandable result of holding your mom as she fell asleep crying, of laying there waiting to be sure she was fast asleep before allowing myself the luxury of shedding my own tears. It was that strange feeling I’ve only had a few times in my life – that otherworldly sensation I’ve only experienced before after someone reasonably close has passed away (which might say a lot about how one really feels about a failed cycle) – it’s a strange realisation, an intense surprise that the rest of the world is carrying on as normal, even though this unnatural thing has occurred. It’s like the world should be different, but for everyone else, it isn’t. Nothing’s changed…

A couple of weeks after our negative, I started adding up the costs, both emotional and financial of this journey so far. I started obsessing over all the things we’re sacrificing to the ravenous beast that is Infertility. And it wasn’t just the big things Infertility was stealing from us. Yes, I imagined all the holidays we could have with the money we’ve already spent, the camera equipment I could buy, the things we could experience, the places we could go, or even just the potential improvement in our bond statement. There was also this ever-growing list of little things it devours. All of a sudden you worry about opening Facebook, you have complications with family get togethers, stress over kiddies parties, dreading pregnancy announcements from anyone ‘that’ age. There’s that inescapable feeling that there are certain times or occasions where everyone who knows about your Infertility is watching you out of the corner of their eye to see how you’re going to react. This feeling of being eternally hunted or stalked, that Infertility can jump out at you and ruin your day when you least expect it…movies that suddenly have Infertility sub-plots (I still cannot get over how the Pixar movie UP blind-sided us so totally!!).

And so, the debits column in this mental Infertility accounting equation seemed almost endless. And it didn’t make sense to me. Why were we doing this to ourselves. We’ve been married for over 12 years, and for the first 10 of them, we were extremely satisfied to be a family of two. We didn’t feel incomplete or that anything was missing. I love your mom more than I can express in words. She is my everything, my raison d’être – my reason for existence. I didn’t need anyone or anything else…so what had possibly changed to make this worthwhile?

A few years back, we bought a big-ass 4×4 truck and started prepping it for a 5 year drive from London to South Africa. We handed in notice in our jobs, sold our home, packed everything up, moved in with friends while planning our grand trip and getting the vehicle ready. But, your mom’s company kept trying to convince her to stay. At the time, it felt like it should have been an incredibly difficult decision – giving up a lifelong dream to really travel Africa in style – and giving it up to remain in grey dreary London…but I realised then that the decision was easy – that your mother meant more to me than realising this dream…that she means more to me than anything. So, if she wanted to stay, that’s what we’d do.

It may sound melodramatic, but the times in my life I’ve been happiest are those times we’ve been travelling…the open road, a full tank of petrol in a suitable vehicle and your mom in the passenger seat. I love the open road, I worship gravel travel, I’m in love with the bush, I find sitting with my camera watching wildlife and trying to capture ‘that’ image an almost religious experience. It’s sitting alone outside the tent as the first rays of the sun turns the world from monotones to multi-hued, with the kettle boiling away on the gas stove for that first cup of coffee, your breath steaming in front of you as you soak in the tranquillity and splendour….that’s what floats my boat. Those are the moments that take my breath away.

When we came back to South Africa, we knew that we were giving up international travel…we knew all travelling from then on was likely to be in the form of 4×4 driving and camping holidays in southern Africa…but that was fine. Because I could give up diving the Red Sea or doing the Inca Trail, if it means spending time in the African bush. The nature of being consultants means that most December/January periods, we’re forced into 3-4 weeks off anyway…so we’d be able to hit the road for that period, we’d be able to explore the incredible sights of southern Africa, those special places. So far, we’ve only managed it once in the soon to be four years back.

And suddenly, just a short while after the failed IVF, when these doubts were at their worst,  this mental arithmetic did the worst possible calculation (like it was on auto-accountant mode)…for the money we’re spending on treatment, we could afford to go on a 2 week overseas holiday as well as a 1 month holiday EVERY YEAR. And that’s just to conceive…!

I started imagining our lives without kids. I remembered our lives from just two years ago…and imagined those same two people but with more time and disposable income, with no sadness and depression wrought by the IF demon. My thoughts became a sad holiday brochure-type montage of your mom and I flitting around the world, laughing and enjoying ourselves, carefree and childfree. And this naturally led on to wondering whether I really wanted children…and if I still did, why?

And this was a difficult thing to face up to. When you’ve spent so long totally focused on trying to have kids, when you’ve been through what Infertility does to you, when you seem to have spent every waking hour for far too long obsessing about something, it’s hard to admit that maybe it’s all been wasted. When you sit back and consider all that the Infertility beast has consumed…and then that maybe it was unnecessary and you’ve tortured yourselves for no reason…it’s not an easy thing to contemplate.

It’s an incredibly hard thing to admit to these feelings to yourself, and it’s even harder trying to talk about it with your other half. It’s not something you can carelessly throw into conversation: “Do you think I’ve put too much white wine in the mushroom stroganoff this evening? Oh, and by the way, I’m having serious doubts about having children. Can you pass the salt?”

But we managed to broach the subject. Your mom and I talked about these feelings, the IF debits and credits list. What our lives could be like without kids, and what they might be like with kids. We managed to talk about it without getting too emotional, but somehow also without being too detached and clinical.

And the strange thing is, talking about not having kids brought us back to being certain we did want them. Like there’s some strange ‘kid constant’ that sits on the credits side of the IF account, and that the value of this constant seems to miraculously adapt to ensure that the result is always that the credits slightly outweigh the debits…that no matter what you’ve invested in terms of time, energy, emotional capital, pain and suffering, it’ll all be worth it when the time comes to collect on your investment…that the kid constant will have made it all worth while.

So, we moved through the wobbly patch, squashed those doubts, and booked our next IVF cycle, feeling positive and content with our decision. And it even means that I can comfortably chat to you guys again without it feeling false or contrived…because we’re back to agreeing unequivocally that we want you in our lives.

But kids, (and here’s the warning)…don’t ever forget that we almost exchanged you for a few holidays and a nice car…so be nice to your mom and me!! I think we’ve earned it.

Smile for the camera…

I know there’s been a bit of a break between posts…bad blogger me!

Just thought I’d pop a quick post in to fill you in on the exciting morning I’ve just had…we’ve just been filmed for a Carte Blanche segment on MFI. For all you dodgey foreigners out there who may not know, Carte Blanche is a current affairs investigative series and is the longest-running show currently on South African television. At the beginning of this year, they created two spin-off series, one of which is Carte Blanche Medical. It was for this show that HopefullyTCC and I were interviewed this morning.

A couple of weeks ago, Kitty8218 on the Fertilicare forum posted that when watching the CB Medical show, they’d made an appeal at the end of the show for guys suffering with MFI to please contact them, as they wanted to do a segment on this issue. Hopefully & I thought about it, discussed the pros and cons of coming out the IF closet on national television, and then decided “what the hell” – more good could possibly come from it than bad…and I’ve been complaining for long enough about infertiles who complain that fertiles are insensitive, when these same infertiles haven’t told anyone – how can someone be sensitive or insensitive when they have no idea you’re struggling with something?!? So, time to practise what I preach and come dashing out the closet – with bells, whistles and a marching bad!

I submitted my story, and, to cut a long story short, Bongani Bingwa, Angus the producer I’d been talking to, and Greg the cameraman, arrived at our place at 08:30 this morning to interview us about our IF journey.

I must be honest (as always) and say I was nervous.

A tiny bit nervous about coming out the closet in such a way, but that wasn’t the main thing. The thing that kept me awake at nights was the thought of having this opportunity to explain MFI to fertiles, the chance to reach out to other guys facing similar problems and making them feel a little less ashamed of their fertility issues, the potential to start the debate hopefully encouraging more guys to speak up…to have this once in a lifetime chance to make a small difference in the lives of infertiles, and to cock it up – that’s what scared me the most.

I’m big enough and ugly enough to handle any comments that might be thrown around after this segment is aired – it’s not that they won’t hurt or cause me pain or embarrassment, but I think I can stand up for myself and take those comments from whence they may come – ignorant peasants mostly! The most important people in my life have known about my infertility for some time now, and have all been incredibly supportive. Anyone else who isn’t gonna be supportive can take a long walk off a short pier as far as I’m concerned.

I just hope against hope that the segment does make it to air, that I didn’t sound like a loony, or pathetic, and that I haven’t made a complete arse of myself. Having my large backside being jabbed with meds on video in the public domain makes this a distinct possibility.

But most of all, I just hope something we’ve said this morning will make it onto national television and make a little difference… for fertiles and infertiles out there who may see it. Because if it does in some small way make a difference in other peoples lives, then this shitty journey I’ve been on since being told 19 years ago that I’d never have children, may well have been worth it.

The Semen Analysis (The ‘take-out’ option) – A Guys guide to IF – part 5

If you are a guy, and you and your partner are infertile, you will be experiencing the bitter-sweet joy of a semen analysis some time or other. There’s no escaping it. You can cry like a little girl, moan and whinge all you like, there is no avoiding it…you will be required to jerk off into a sterile container, and hand it over to someone in a lab coat.

For many guys, this will be the sum total of their required involvement in the infertility-to-pregnancy process. Other guys end up having to provide their sample in a more painful and uncomfortable way – via sperm extraction or aspiration. But (fortunately or unfortunately – depending on your viewpoint) I can’t tell you anything about this first hand…and selfishly hope never to gain the experience through intimate personal experience! The idea of a scalpel within 2 metres of my testicles results in me magically obtaining a second pair of tonsils – there’s some automatic and unconscious bodily reaction that results from the mention of ‘scalpel’ and ‘testicles’ in the same sentence… without any conscious thought on my part, my testicles retract up into my body at the speed of light with an accompanying shlurping sound (like a testicular sonic boom)! If I ever need to undergo one of these procedures, they’re going to have to hatch a cunning plan… like they used to do on The A Team when they had to get B.A. on an airplane… they’re going to have to find a way of administering the sedatives long before I get anywhere near the vicinity of the clinic, without me being even aware of it… otherwise the doc is going to have to go in via my mouth to find my testicles for the extraction!

But SA’s I can tell you about… been there, done that… a good few times!

In that time, I’ve discovered some very important tips and advice for guys and SA’s…hope you find them useful. Obviously, by the very nature of this subject matter, the information and wisdom I am about to depart is graphic. It’s way way too much information for anyone other than a guy anticipating a TWOS (The Walk Of Shame – what I lovingly named the SA experience after the first couple of times I had to walk anywhere with my no-longer-sterile container transporting my hot-of-the-press sample). It’s so far over the line that it’s practically back at the line again – it’s circumnavigated good taste and passed over-share a while back…but, it’s the kind of subject that guys may need some help with – I’m no clinically trained expert (although I may get many credits for recognition of prior learning and experience)…it’s what I’ve discovered and it’s what I absolutely know without a shadow of a doubt, no-one else is ever going to tell you…so pull your chair closer, glance over your shoulder to make sure no-one’s watching and don’t bother taking notes – you don’t ever want someone to see notes on this subject in your own handwriting!

The first thing to know about an SA is that there is absolutely no way, no hope, not even a smidgen of a chance that you will retain your dignity during the experience…it’s a non starter. So, get over it and move on. Try have some fun with it…you may not succeed, but it’ll make life a little easier if you do.

The advice I have for you is broken down into two main groups, depending on your chosen delivery plan…are you ‘eating in’, or is it strictly ‘take-out’ for you. My first ever SA was ordered by my GP a while back, before we were referred to the FS. The pathology lab the GP used was 5 minutes drive from home, so the logical choice was a ‘take-out’ option…you know, ‘provide the sample’ at home and then deliver it to the lab. This only works if you’re within half an hour of the lab and can keep the sample at body temperature while transporting. Because all of my remaining SA’s were being managed by our FS clinic, and they’re an hour away, they were all using the ‘eating in’ approach.

There’s too much to cover in one section, so I’ll share my pearls of wisdom in two parts. Today I’ll start off with the ‘take-out’ option (or ‘home delivery’ if you want to refer to it in a suitably ‘pregnancy/birth’ kinda way). I’ll cover the do’s and don’t’s of “eating in” in another post.

Here’s what I learned during my only take-out SA…It’s a damn site more comfortable masturbating at home.

It’s nothing you haven’t done a million times before, it’s nothing new, its old hat. There’s a certain comfort level with this option, but there are some catches (literally) – Normally, (assuming you’re a bathroom wanker) you don’t have to worry too much about accuracy…it’s like an AMRAAM or Slammer Missile – it’s strictly fire and forget. So, the first difference is that you have to aim…and if you’re one of those guys whose wife is still telling you to sit down when peeing, you know your accuracy isn’t great at the best of times, never mind when your eyeballs are rolling around in your head! So, that’s the first complication. The second complication is that for the first time in the 8 years you’ve been married (in fact it’ll probably be the first time since your third date), your wife will want to ‘help’. This sounded like a great idea at the time…but let me make a suggestion…unless your wife can shake a ketchup bottle for 8 minutes flat without tiring, needing to swap hands, or sticking her tongue out and screwing her face up like she’s undergoing open-heart surgery without anaesthetics, it’s not going to work…because even if you’re normally a ‘three strokes and you’re out’ kinda guy, this time it’s gonna take a little longer…the pressure will affect your performance…so you’re gonna want to take matters in your own hands, you need to go with the most efficient, most experienced campaigner – you don’t play the world cup finals and leave Ronaldo on the bench!

So, if she offers, I suggest one of two approaches…The first option (and by far the better one) is to fob her off by giving her something else to do. My suggestion is to make her responsible for minimising potential transportation delays. Tell her you need her to have the car running out on the road – like the get-away driver in a movie bank heist, revving the car, ready for you to dive into the back seat at speed with the loot safely tucked under your arm, her flooring the accelerator before you’ve even closed your door, screeching away in a cloud of tyre smoke.

The second option is for her to play a strictly hands-off part…like a virtual fluffer…inspiration without the interference. It’s up to you whether this should be a speaking role, or whether this should be a purely walk-on part – depending on your own preferences of course. There is however, a certain risk with this option…she may well be performing a credible re-enactment of your favourite scenes from Striptease or 9½ Weeks, but there is a downside…and it comes in the form of a predatory glint in her eye. She may be parading around in her sexiest lingerie, she may be doing the ‘When Harry met Sally’ thing, but, there will still be that look in her eye, the kind of pent-up excitement and anticipation that makes you feel like the goat staked out to attract the lions…the kind of look that’s going to put you off your stroke as you glance around nervously…and, at the critical moment, you’ll be awed by her moving at superhuman speed to investigate your deposit, before you’re even aware it’s done. She’ll grab that little container out of your sweaty little hands and peer at it with great intensity, before (although this could have just been my experience) saying something like “is that it…?”

The look of disappointment will take you back to your first failed test at school, or, if your memory is particularly good, the time your potty training let you down in pre-school – the disappointed disapproving look, the arched eyebrow, the little shake of the head while making tutting sounds, and finally the pursed lips as she looks at you with that ‘is that the best you can do…did you really try your hardest…you really should put more effort in’ look. That look. The one that has your lips quivering and your puppy dog eyes watering in shame. And you’ll lay there wondering if you did put your all into it, did you try your hardest, have you let the team down, please let her give you another try, you’ll do better next time. And while you’re still vulnerable, feeling completely inadequate, she’ll be shooing you along to get dressed so that you can take your miserable half-arsed sample to the lab…if it’s even worth it.

So, flying solo is best – less pressure, fewer distractions, and no judgement! Keep her involvement to a strictly ‘logistical support’ role.

But, when all’s said and done, it’s a lot easier at home. It’s a breeze, little or no fuss (unless you didn’t succeed in keeping your missus out of the room).

That is until you get to the lab and the pretty receptionist will ask you to hand over your sample. Which you do. She’ll ask you to fill out the lab form that’s written in a font size so small that you need an electron microscope to read it. But you avoid squinting at all costs – they warned you at school that doing THAT would make you blind…and the pretty receptionist knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ve just done THAT! If you even suggest a squint she’s gonna know that you slap more salami than the owner of the local italian deli.

Then she smiles sweetly at you and asks you when the sample was produced…it was at this time that I had the overwhelming temptation to stick out my hand and say something like…”very very recently. Feel, my palm is still warm”.

I had this horrible vision when rushing my first and only ‘take-out’ sample through to the lab, of being involved in a car accident en route…and the paramedics attending me at the scene wondering why I was covered in sperm, of my insurance company refusing to pay out because I was obviously involved in some obscene act at the time of the accident.

As comfortable as home delivery is, I’m not a fan of this approach. Maybe it’s because our issue is Male Factor Infertility. I want to rule out every potential cause for there being little or no sperm…and if time and temperature fluctuations can have an effect, I’m opting for producing my samples in the little room next door to the lab…literally only a few meters between it seeing the light of day, and it being stuck in the incubator…no time wasting, no temperature fluctuations, no delay = no risk. I don’t want the time delay as I negotiate the rush hour traffic or the road works to have an impact on my SA scorecard. I want the minimum delay, the minimum risk…hell I’d deliver my sample straight onto the microscope slide right in the lab if it would make a difference!

So, now we come to the graphic hints and suggestions…this is strictly x-rated and you should be over 25 years of age before reading this (and ideally be a guy struggling with infertility and not be someone I’ll ever meet and need to make eye contact with). Here are a few things I’ve learnt…

• Your missus helping may not always be a help. Somewhere on this journey, I heard a story of a woman handing in her husband’s sample and being asked if she assisted in a certain way…because apparently saliva is not good for sperm and they need to take that into account. I’m not sure how true this is – I think this is typical female propaganda…I’ve always believed that saliva is very good for sperm, it’s certainly very good for sperm extraction…but in the pursuit of the best SA result possible (especially if you have reason to believe you’re borderline), it’s a no-no… Some woman have hostile cervical mucus, it attacks those little swimmers like it’s clubbing seals, so, unless you’ve ruled that out, you may need to limit ‘assistance’ even further…Which pretty much leaves the helping hand…and unless your significant other is well practised, that’s probably counter-productive too. So, you’re left with nothing else other than the visual aid approach…but like I’ve said, be warned that this could also have it’s down-sides, unless you like the idea of having your sample critically evaluated just micro-seconds after you’ve produced it.
• Other visual aids can be a handful. Avoid magazines with the folding pull-out centre-fold – between your joystick and the sterile container, your hands are going to be pretty full already – and you definitely don’t want spillage! It’s going to require herculean levels of concentration to get your aim right and worrying about a 5 page spread could have potentially devastating results – imagine telling your missus you’re going to have to try again in a couple of days time because you missed the target while trying to turn the page…it’ll go down like a french kiss at a family reunion…not good. On the plus side, if your missus would normally frown disapprovingly at you having a porno mag in the home, now’s your chance to get one and browse it openly without her giving you a hard time…you are after all only doing it because you have to…it’s not like you want to read it…you’re taking one for the team, you’re being thorough and dedicated to the cause, you’re leaving no stone unturned in your pursuit of a good SA result – well done you.
• Take the lid off the sterile container before-hand. This should be self-explanatory, but would hate for you to be ill prepared…I don’t think the clinic will be chuffed if the sample is all over the container instead of inside the container.
• Ambidextrous is the ticket. If you’re not very coordinated, the juggling act with the sterile container can lead to some hairy moments. Missing the target or dropping the container is the absolute worst possible outcome – you need to avoid this at all costs! If your one hand has a reputation for dropping things, knocking things over or just generally being useless, now’s the time to put it to use. Practise masturbating with your off hand – you’ll want to use the best hand for holding the container, both during capture and afterwards, and swapping hands is a big risk – don’t do it. Not until you’ve got that lid screwed on nice and tight! Obviously, if you’re a big fan of internet porn, you’ve been visiting a lot of those left-hand websites, so you’ve already perfected ambidextrous multitasking, but remember that a mouse and a sterile container are different! Furiously double-clicking your sterile container is probably only going to result in you dropping it at the crucial moment!
• Gravity is your friend. Do the five knuckle shuffle standing up – it makes getting everything into the little container a helluva lot easier. Let gravity work for you, rather than having to fight it. It makes aiming a lot easier! And it takes variable velocity out of the aiming equation!
• Being a whole man has its advantages. If you haven’t been circumcised, you have a few more options. You don’t have to stand up to safely deliver your sample, because you have your own in-built stop-cock. Grip the tip of your foreskin tight at the critical moment, and nothing will escape…this allows you time to retrieve your container and perform a controlled release at your leisure.
• Get the truth straight from your specialist. Don’t let your other half relay the information…she lies! It was only recently, when I asked him, that our specialist informed me that I should be ejaculating A LOT up to 48 hours before the sample is required. He actually said “lots of sex or ejaculating”, but I knew what that would translate into without needing to even look in my missus’s direction. He said in my case (and I’m assuming that this is probably true for many MFI cases), the optimal is a lot of action up till 48 hours before, then abstinence till the actual sample is delivered. In the past, my missus convinced me that I needed to abstain for longer periods before the sample…cruel and unusual punishment I thought! So don’t trust her…ask the specialist yourself…and if at all possible, get it in writing (unless the news is bad and he wants to inflict longer periods of abstinence…then contact me and I’ll get my specialist to email you a ‘second opinion’ saying lots of sex and 48 hours abstinence max).

So, in summary, it might seem onerous, but there is a lot to recommend the ‘take-out’ option semen analysis…because, ‘eating in’ has its own rather large draw backs…and I’ll tell you what they are next time.