So today is Miguel’s appointment with the urologist, to try to figure out why his swimmers suck so much and what we can do to fix it. I’m nervous for a lot of reasons; I want it to go well and have them tell us that it is an easy fix. But I have a feeling that is not what we’re going to hear.
I know one part of the problem is lifestyle-Miguel likes his beer, and doesn’t think it could possibly have that big of an impact. He has plenty of friends who are big drinkers and they managed to knock up their wives. I can’t convince him that maybe they were already starting with good stuff in the first place, so drinking didn’t have all that big of an impact as it would if you’re starting out behind. That is one thing I’m hoping that the doctor drives home today, because he won’t hear it from me.
And I think that he is starting out behind because a few months after my miscarriage, he got nailed with a football. He was on the verge of going to the doctor several weeks later, because it still didn’t feel right, when it started to feel better. I’m wondering if that didn’t cause some sort of permanent injury, which is compounded by drinking lowering his sperm count.
Of course, if there is some sort of permanent injury, probably the only way to fix it is surgery, something he’s not really excited about. He’s at a fairly new job and doesn’t want to have to take off time from work for surgery and recovery. I think he’s also reluctant to slap his junk up on the operating table. I’m not even going to worry about it until we know what we’re looking at. It could just be a laparoscopic outpatient procedure that he can recover from over a weekend.
What frustrates me most about this is that it isn’t an easy process with Miguel. If it happened naturally, if I had just gotten pregnant over the last year of trying, he would be thrilled, we’d be having a baby, end of story. But now that you start introducing all these other factors into the mix: making changes to his recreation schedule, taking time off work, sitting around impatiently in doctor’s offices as they’re running 40 minutes behind, having your privacy and body invaded, he is not nearly as sure as I am that this is the right thing to do.
I can hear some of you out there rolling your eyes and relegating me to the status of train wreck blog: stupid woman forces her alcoholic husband to have baby, will be divorced single mother in under 5 years. But you know, nothing is ever certain or simple or black and white in life.
I know I’m not fulfilled right now with the life we currently have, so I can either leave it be and be half happy for the next 50 years, or I can take a chance at something more. We both realize that having a baby will change our lives and lifestyle dramatically, and in ways we can’t even imagine yet, so of course there is some fear and hesitation there. Right now, his fear and hesitation are greater than mine, but I don’t have any doubts that he will be a loving and affectionate, if not always infinitely patient and attentive, father. I can’t wait to see him be silly and roll around on the floor with our baby, and make up little songs for him or her like he does for the dog. I can’t wait for there to be a little one with whom he can share his joy and excitement over Christmas, a little helper as he puts up the decorations the day after Thanksgiving.