So as most of you know, I’m a humor writer. This means that I’m a professional highly-trained in making smart-ass remarks. Look how good I am at it, even my job description to you contained a smart-ass remark. My entire life, I’ve never been able to help myself from doing it so I finally gave in and made a career of it. That’s why I’m no good on Facebook. People beg you for sympathy and support. Look, my friend Shannon whom I adore posted that she lost 133 pounds. Only she accidentally wrote “ponds”instead of “pounds” so of course everyone else wrote: “Good job!” and “Way to Go!” and I had to write: “Was that water weight, Shannon?” instead of letting it go like a normal person. (I’ve probably been un-friended by more people on FB than anyone else.) So in honor of “Let’s Hear it for the Boys… and their ‘boys'” month, when it comes to male infertility, I thought it best if I just shut-up and let a medical professional tell you some important stuff with some great links to more important stuff… instead of a smart-ass professional telling you why it’s funny… which of course it isn’t. Continue reading
We’re impossible. We are. When you’re going through infertility, there’s no way to talk to us. The first thing to go may be our ability to conceive easily. But then, three of our senses tailgate very closely behind:
1) Hearing 2) Sight 3) Rational Thinking (aka Common Sense)… Not necessarily in that order. Continue reading
Am I the only one who cringed when I read the title? (And that’s pretty bad since I wrote the damn thing.)
So, my husband is always a great source of inspiration for my blogs. He finds me interesting tidbits and passes them along. It’s a secure man who clips out sperm-related articles for his wife. (And if you like what they get turned into in these posts, please join my fab group of subscribers to receive a weekly newsletter with info and future blog-related offers.)
So this latest tidbit was in the news about sperm donors running amok. (Another pretty visual isn’t it? I can see this is going to be a long post.)
Apparently all, many or some sperm banks don’t keep track of how many fish the donors send downstream.
What I mean is: They either don’t keep track of how many sperm from one guy end up producing a child or they keep track and don’t cut it off. (Was “cut it off” a poor choice of words?)
It seems that sperm banks just keep letting more and more women pick the same sperm donor over and over and the numbers of children they produce keep rising like with the gas prices, and the number of customers served at the drive-thru.
Apparently this woman, who had conceived via sperm donor, decided to create a group online to keep track of her son’s half-brothers and sisters. Well, he’s seven now, and at last count he had 150 brothers and sisters. By the time he’s twelve, they’ll have to rent Rhode Island for their family reunions. Continue reading
So apparently for years and years, researchers around the globe have diligently been working on the problem of male infertility.
Doesn’t that just figure? Hey, I’m not in anyway underplaying the severity of the male infertility situation. If you’ve got a good partner, whoever has the fertility issue, you both suffer. The couple suffers, the relationship suffers.
Even though I talk about football non-stop year round and have been told many times:
“Boy, I can’t believe you said that! You must have some humongous (male parts) on you!”
I can’t even begin to imagine the devastation a man feels when he’s told he’s physically responsible for the couple’s infertility.
Research in Japan just came up with a promising prospect for infertile men.
Basically, in the future, scientists may be able to mix these chemicals with vitamins and put them into a man’s testicles and no matter what his fertility issue was, he’ll from them on be able to grow his very own healthy, wealthy, and wise, macho sperm… as proud, hard working, and egocentric as any other man’s sperm.
Ain’t that some shit? Continue reading
(Start with “Monday” if you can. Yes, all this week is about men: Specifically, our men and their roles in our infertility journey: From us getting them prepared for their IVF husbandly duties specimen to the history behind the nightly “jab her in the butt cheek” ritual.)
I have to say these guys deserve all of our gratitude. If you’re lucky enough to have someone amazing, they’re indispensible across the board. But anyone who’s ready, willing, and able to give you tush injections is golden. Continue reading
(Start with “Monday” if you can. Tomorrow’s Veteran’s Day and I’m an IVF veteran. Have some respect. Do I get a free meal at Applebee’s?)
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. How impressed everyone at the fertility clinic was with my husband’s Olympic swimmer sperm and how underwhelmed they were with his old lady- who, in fertility terms was well— an old lady.
We also discussed how you sometimes feel jealous when you’re the one diagnosed with the infertility problems. And it’s okay to lament (momentarily) that you’re the one who has to go through all of this, not him.
In preparing for this post, I came across an article on FertilityPlus’ site. It made some mention of the man’s role. The seedier side of his responsibilities. Yes, I think you know to what I’m referring. Oh grow up. You do too. Continue reading
(Start with “Monday” if you can. This whole week is dedicated to the “Y” chromosome, all grown-up, married to us and keeping us company during the entire infertility debacle.)
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Men and how they fit into the whole female infertility journey.
As I’m sure most of you are aware, infertility can be attributed to the female partner about 1/3 of the time, the male partner 1/3 of the time and a combination of the two 1/3 of the time… and of course there’s also the endlessly frustrating “anybody’s guess” column somewhere in the mix.
No matter who gets diagnosed with what: Forget “fault”. Neither of you is at fault. Somebody’s body’ is not working properly. No fault. You didn’t cause a car accident. If you became infertile because you were texting during sex, then forget what I said: Screw you, you are at fault. Otherwise, let blame,guilt, fault, all of that crap go.
And let’s say right here: If you’re the one who’s deemed to be the “infertile one” in the relationship… you have the absolute right to be a little jealous of your husband/wife, spouse, lover, best-you-could-do-under-the-circumstances, better-than-being-alone-or-so-I- thought-at-the-time, significant or insignificant other. Continue reading
(Start with “Monday” if you can. This week is kind of the infertility version of a Halloween Fright Night movie marathon just without Jason or Freddy…or Jamie Lee Curtis yelling in your ear.)
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. The disturbing goings-on at a few fertility clinics over the years.
Maybe fertility clinics should have framed inspection rating certificates hanging at the reception desk like they do at Wendy’s. “Mary, look, this clinic only got a 72, let’s get out of here!”
(Although I’ve seen some restaurants where I’ve looked at the certificate which boasted a rating of “99.5%”. Then I looked at the restaurant. Then at the certificate. Then at the employees. Then at the certificate again, squinting, to see how cleverly it was altered– or ponder who was paid off.)
But if we’re all honest, sperm mix-ups and doctors engaging in criminal acts, while important, are nowhere near at the top of our “What scares the daylights out of me the most” list, the first time we open that door to the fertility clinic. Continue reading
(Start with “Monday” if you can… if you dare…whoooooooooooooo and if you like what you read, consider subscribing. It’s easy and you’ll get some weekly blog behind-the-scenes…If you dare…. whoooooooooo0oooo.)
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. The one-in-a-zillion mishap when a qualified fertility doctor slips the wrong sperm into the right uterus. Or, you might say, the sperm is in the wrong place at the right time.
Perhaps even more frightening (but definitely rarer) is when a woman goes to an infertility clinic, gets inseminated, and nine months later has a baby who’s the spitting image of her….. fertility doctor. Continue reading
(Start with “Monday” if you can. I didn’t post last week so you’re probably aching to get as much of me as possible this week. Or not.)
So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Fears. Particularly fears shared by those of us with fertility issues. We were discussing a few occasional mishaps at a smattering of fertility clinics where the woman got inseminated with some stranger’s sperm instead of the guy she came to the appointment with.
I also recently read a story recently (I read too damn much.. and watch too much news. I should stick to cartoons. Nobody ever gets inseminated in cartoons… well maybe on Family Guy or The Simpsons or American Dad… Okay, cartoons are out too. I’ll just stare at the wall.)
Anyway, this news article was about a couple who had twins from a sperm donor. Well, apparently someone had a problem translating English into English. Continue reading