My Wife Was Fertile—I Wasn't
A couple's difficult journey towards having a baby: Part 1.
Part one of a four-part series on male infertility. Click here to read parts two, three and four.
When I look back on the courtship that led to my marriage, I fast forward through a carousel of emotionally charged moments: the night we met, the night we first slept together (not the same), a postcard she sent me, our first weekend away together, a Ray Charles concert, a birthday party (mine), a birthday party (hers), a Hamptons summer rental, a Sam Cooke album, an Al Green concert, a vacation in Europe where I almost proposed but didn't, the night we actually got engaged, and the wedding itself.
Then I pause because that's where this story begins. From the moment Amy and I got married, friends and relatives would ask: When are you thinking of starting a family? Read: When's the Best Time to Start a Family?
Honestly, I had been focusing so much on the getting married part, I hadn't really thought what was next. Our standard answer was a phrase we had heard other couples say: we were going to wait two years.
As newlyweds we were settling in, opening joint bank accounts, taking exotic holidays, and attending other people's weddings and the occasional baby shower. Our feet were still firmly planted in the non-breeder camp—the kind of people who look horrified if seated near a baby on a plane.
But then one night, almost eighteen months after our wedding, we decided to abandon contraception. It was scary. It was exciting. I recall thinking that it was kind of kinky.
Nine months later and… nothing. Every time Amy got her period, she broke into tears.
She went to her gynecologist who performed tests that revealed no obvious issues. He then suggested the three of us talk together. I sat in a cramped office off Madison Avenue on New York City's Upper East Side as a cheery bear of a man led us through a repeat of my eighth grade "life sciences" class concluding with the suggestion that I have tests as well.
"It takes two to make a baby," he said. Or one not to make one, I thought.
In New York, everyone always knows someone who knows someone who knows the best. I knew a woman who was engaged to a med student who had studied with the best urologist in New York—"the guy you want to go to."
The "best" turned out to be a young, short, tightly wound man with a pinched face who seemed inordinately pleased with himself but slightly annoyed by me. He told me that I would have to give a sperm sample and then, after his analysis, we would talk further.
As I left his office, his nurse handed me a plastic cup.
"We have a room here," she said, nodding towards what in all aspects appeared to be a men's room.
"Now?" I asked. "I have to do this now? Here?"
"No, of course," she said, "You can take this home. Just bring us the sample within an hour of collecting it." I chose the home court.
I suppose everyone remembers their first time. I certainly do. I put on some mood music, dimmed the lights and proceeded to romance myself. Eager to please the laboratory (and myself), I marshaled my forces to climax, and then promptly fumbled the collection. Most of my contribution missed the container.
Imagine how embarrassing it was when I had to ask the urologist's nurse how much was enough and if I could please try again. Read: How much masturbation can one person take?
Discussion
My husband and I struggled with fertility for around ten years with blunt doctors telling us it was probably for the best, afterall we weren't making a lot of money anyhow...as if a paycheck determines how badly you want children. We finally found a Doctor who actually understood what we were going through and found out that his bout of chickenpox at 16 and my hormone deficiencies were causing the problem! All we needed was time for our systems to "mesh" (Doctor's explanation) and two girls later we were finally a family!
I can really sympathize with the author and his struggle with fertility, it nearly knocked the life out of my husband. He was devastated thinking that he'd never be a father...we'd been told we were not a candidate even for fostercare let alone adoption. All lies as it turns out but there ya have it...
Wow....holy spit WOW.
I have a feeling that there are a lot of men out there, like myself, that are secretly afraid of this happening. I want a family. I want kids. I want precocious mini-me's causing all sorts of trouble but being absolutely adorable while they do it.
And I'm scared that my fish aren't gonna swim.
I've got no proof, of course, as I've never actually tried to get someone pregnant. There have been accidents in the past - a broken condom here and there - but nothing resulted from it to my immediate relief at the time. Whether its because the boys aren't up to the task or because the "morning after" cocktail worked I can't say for sure, but in the darkest recesses of my heart, as I get older and closer to finding the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, a very selfish part of me kind of wishes that an accident did happen so that I would know I was definitely capable.
More responses on part 3...don't want to spoil the story for everyone starting here.
I think your story is an absolute breath of fresh air, and will absolutely raise awareness, not only for couples who are having difficulty concieving, but on the parents of our society that decide to abandoned the children that their womb was so blessed to carry, I know you and your wife will have a happy ending, and although I just recieved the message from Liz to check this story out, so I havent finished all installments, but already I am truly touched. Best wishes to your family!!!!!
It's amazing how awful doctors can be. Sometimes it seems like the smartest ones take special "I don't listen to anyone else" classes. The funny thing is, this guy was probably getting paid top collar to be a jerk.
I actually had a friend who said she went into surgery as a specialization because she was no good at talking to people.
