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Peace

Courtesy of Mrs. Wanner.

Courtesy of Mrs. Wanner.

Your touch dances upon the surface of my skin.

My breath is stolen by the smell of your sweet kiss.

I break out in a smile feeling the warmth of your gaze.

For I have found in your loving embrace…

PEACE!

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Valentine’s Day!

I learned a lot about the importance of Valentine’s Day from my father. He taught me exactly what a husband should NOT do on Valentine’s Day. I recall one year he tried to get away with only a card, then watched him suffer the rest of the week trying to make up for his faux pas.

What I learned was you can either expend a little energy and effort before Valentine’s Day and reap the rewards. Or you can expend a lot of energy and effort (and money) after Valentine’s Day just trying to get your wife to forgive you.

In a nutshell, Valentine’s Day is important! Don’t listen to her tell you it’s not important, that’s a trap. Don’t believe me? Try ignoring Feb 14th altogether and watch what happens!

The great thing about Valentine’s Day is that it’s not about how much money you spend. How big the box of chocolates you bought for her are. Neither flowers or jewelry are even required. The day is about making her feel loved and letting her know she is a special part of your life.

This year we made reservations at a restaurant we both love. I purchased a pair of earrings within my budget that I thought would look beautiful on my wife. Picked up the obligatory Valentine’s Day card, and still felt like I was short of the mark on showing how much I loved her.

So instead of buying some overpriced roses and a crummy box of chocolates at the store, I figured I’d make her something special…an arrangement of my own making. I found a cute tray to hold my Valentine goodies at a craft store, along with some accessories to give it that personal touch. I ran to the grocery store and picked up some Ghiradelli chocolate chips and some yummy strawberries. I also found a tray for making heart shaped ice cubes that could be used instead to make little heart shaped chocolates with the extra melted chocolate

My plan was to make my wife chocolate covered strawberries and little chocolate hearts; arrange them in the tray with little red felt hearts I bought and voilà: a gift from the bottom of my heart that I hoped would touch her’s. As luck would have it, she arrived home and spotted the chocolate chips and strawberries, put 2 and 2 together and announced, “You could have just bought me some chocolate covered strawberries from the store.”

*facepalm*

But behind that casual comment I think I saw a hint of a smile.

The universe felt I needed some more luck and gave her the morning shift the day before Valentine’s Day, so I had to prepare this “surprise” while she was at home.

The process didn’t take very long and I’m very happy with how it turned out.

Mmmmmm…Chocolate!

She loved her Valentine’s Day chocolate and I loved making it for her.

The thing is, you don’t need to spend a bunch of money to let your woman know you are still in love with her. If you’re scared of setting the house on fire trying to make her chocolate covered strawberries…try writing a poem. If you suck a writing poetry then memorize a love poem and whisper it in her ear as you embrace.

Take a trip to the spot of where you first met, first kissed, or first realized you were in love with her. Show her you remember those times in your relationship.

Valentine’s for a married couple is about letting go of the day to day worries and rekindling the love affair with your wife. Let go of the worries about trying to get pregnant for the day. (Unless you’re ovulating then hey, perfect timing!) Let her know that you desire her as much now as when you first kissed.

That’s why Valentine’s Day is important to your special lady, and should be important to you as well.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

© copyright 2011-2013

Hopes and Fears

The wife has been so cute the last couple of days. She has been very careful to avoid the list of foods the doctors told her to avoid. I’ve been helping her by making the bad foods disappear. She is eating scrambled eggs in the morning and a piece of pineapple core in the evening that is supposed to help her lining accept the embryos. She did some lovely decorating in the condo for autumn. There is still a little discomfort in her belly, but it only hurts now when laughing or sneezing. She fears she is accident prone and being very careful in her activities. Other than a banged head on the drier door, I would call her attempt to avoid accidents a success.

Looming over us was the hope that the 2 transferred embryos were attaching themselves for the long haul, and that a few of the 4 growing in the lab would make it so we could freeze them. At 11:30 this morning the wife sends me the text, “None of them made it baby.” . . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

FUCK 😥 😥 😥

I’m stuck at work, but I want nothing more than to rush home, take her in my arms and hold her close. She is trying to be strong and not let it upset her, but she worries what the future might bring. She is scared this didn’t work. Afraid if she tries to feel confident about it working that will just make her feel worse if it doesn’t. I took some advice from OneSuburbanChic’s blog and told her “for now just live in the present sweetheart.”

Our energy is now focused on trying to stay cautiously hopeful. Our hopes now rest solely on two little embryos in her womb. Come on little buddies, please stick!!!

© copyright 2011-2012

Searching for a relaxing day

Since we started the stimulation shots, it feels like I’ve been constantly busy worrying about something. That something mostly revolving around drugs of some sort. But now that we are coming upon the end of this part of the journey, I’m finally feeling relaxed. No more worrying about taking my pill twice a day. I’m finished, for now, with having to order more drugs from the specialty pharmacy and making sure someone will be home to sign when they arrive. The anxiety of giving my wife a shot no longer bothers me.

Last night I came home to a wonderful chicken and rice dinner the wife prepared, where we had an interesting conversation about sore, swollen boobs. We raided the goodies from the hurricane supplies we thankfully didn’t need. Sat together on the couch watching the hurricane coverage to make sure our relatives in Alabama were safe. Laughed and joked about the idiots on TV trying to stand up and talk into a microphone in the middle of the storm. We then finished the night giving each other shoulder rubs. This morning I made pancakes and we laughed at each others weird dreams. Yes I still had to give her shots, but my head is no longer obsessing about them. I’m feeling really good, almost normal. The wife is dealing with the discomfort of swollen boobs and swollen ovaries, but her mood is pretty good too.

A couple of weeks ago I connected this blog up with google in the hope of helping others, so their search engine can find this blog. As a bonus, I get a nifty report telling me what people searched for when they list this blog in their results. So today I looked at the list and found:

— “my wife hates me ivf too expensive”

I’m sorry your wife hates you and I completely understand thinking ivf is too expensive for you. I would shop around. You may have been referred to a clinic that has a high price tag. I felt the same way and lucked out that our clinic’s rates are reasonable enough for us to afford it. If in the end you just can’t afford ivf, her seeing you make the effort should stop her hatred of you. (I would still sleep on the couch for a while until she gives you a thumbs up.)

— “male torture”

Either you have real psychological issues, or you are in a troubling relationship and need assistance. Please get some help. I feel like I should call the police, but I’m not sure what I would tell them.

— “male troture”

See previous answer and a typing or spelling course may also be of benefit.

— “What do they do in the consultation for IVF for the male?”

I hope this person came to this blog and found some answers. Unfortunately those answers are simply ejaculate in this cup and stick this needle into your wife’s bum. But I’d like to think I’m helping somebody.

© copyright 2011-2012

And the walls come tumbling down

The wife and I are sitting in the waiting room at the Urologist’s office holding each others hand. I can tell she is nervous, but I’m a swimming cocktail of emotion. Hopeful the doctor found something to fix my condition. Worried about how some of those fixes might occur. (The antique tools around the waiting room are not helping. And I plan ahead with a response to ask the wife for some privacy if any further examinations are required.)  Scared the problem can’t be fixed. Grateful for the beautiful wife by my side. Angry at the picture of 3 handsome boys of the Urologist’s reminding me I’m broken. Sitting there trying to be strong for my wife for whatever news awaits us, the assistant calls my name and directs us into an examination room.

This doctor is very efficient and quickly enters the room before the emotional cocktail starts churning again. Unfortunately the arrangement of the seating doesn’t allow for me to hold my wife’s hand, as I am desperately wanting to do so at the moment.

“Hello Mr and Mrs. Jones (not our real name). I take it you’ve finished the tests I requested, so lets take a look at the results shall we.” as he flips open the folder to the first test result. “Well you sure are consistent. The semen analysis is exactly the same.” I feel a slight breeze from the paper as he turns to the next report. “The blood work I ordered to check your FSM and LH levels are higher than normal. The brain produces FSM and LH to tell the testicles to produce testosterone. The more testosterone in the testes increases sperm production. This tells me the brain is getting the signal that there is a production issue and is sending the right signals to try to correct it.” Realizing I’ve been holding my breath, I breath in slow and deep as he reads the final report. Stealing a glance at my wife, I notice her eyes are fixed on the doctor and her hands nervously clutched in her lap…”The only issue the ultrasound discovered is small enlargement in one of the veins. An enlarged vein in the testicles can cause the temperature to increase, and therefore decrease sperm production. However, this is a very small enlargement and I do not think surgery would produce any benefit to your condition. This is a very unusual case. Patients coming to me for fertility reasons either have none at all, or a low sperm count, but I haven’t seen someone having only a few. The other tests checking for infection, STD’s, cancer, etc., all came back negative. I’m sorry Mr. Jones but there is nothing I can do surgically or chemically to help you . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . refer you to a fertility specialist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .I wish you both the best  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . very sorry I’m unable to help you.”

“. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .”, my wife asks as her eyes begin to fill.

” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .”, the doctor responds with genuine sympathy.

Staring at a void of nothingness, I instinctively thank the doctor and shook his hand. I reach for the anchor of my wife’s hand, then head out to make the co-pay. Standing at the window, waiting for the receptionist to finish with another patient, thoughts and emotions begin to coalesce in the void. (“NO, NOT HERE”) Desperately I search for something positive to focus on. I turn to my wife and feel the flood rushing behind my eyes. (“Nope, that’s not going to work.”) Switching gears to see if anger will help. (“That doctor should not have gotten my hopes up last visit!”) But it rings hollow, I know in my heart the doctor did his best. The phone rings as the receptionist finishes with the other patient. Frantically I start erecting my internal walls to build my own void by focusing on the mundane. (“What an ugly wallpaper? My credit card is looking a bit rough, maybe I should ask for a new one? It’s a shame that young girl dyes her hair instead of leaving it natural, doesn’t she realize soon she will be forced to dye it?) I sign my name, reach for my wife’s hand and head out the door into the hall. I round the corner and see a guy down the hall, but the pressure is now too great.

Coming to a complete stop, I turn to my wife and said, “I’m sorry.” As we embraced my walls came tumbling down. A river flowed from my eyes. My chest began heaving in hyperventilating sobs that I haven’t felt since I was a child.

“Why are you sorry baby?” she asks through her own tears.

“I . . . I . . . I . . .”, could not speak. Every time I tried my body just wouldn’t let me. I could not tell her the devastation I felt for being the reason of shattering both our dreams of having a family. The initial shock that created the void just crushed me when all the thoughts and emotions started flowing back in. Eventually I did speak, but I don’t recall what I said or her response. I just remember her holding me and feeling a blanket of warmth and love surround me, that which I’ve never experienced before in my entire life.

I called in sick to work and headed home. We discussed the idea of adoption. It’s just not for me. I have the highest respect for those who do adopt. I know it’s irrational, but I fear not being able to connect with the kid. That isn’t something you can fake and wouldn’t be fair to the child. Probably the introvert in me. We did discuss having my father be a sperm donor. Even if in my head I couldn’t connect as a father/child, I could still connect as a sibling. We decided to tell no one for the moment except for my father. Who I called that night and graciously agreed to help if all other options were closed.

© copyright 2011-2012