You may have noticed that I haven’t posted any results from Hubby’s latest SA and bloodwork. That’s because we haven’t gotten them yet. (Boo.)
He called Dr. K’s office earlier this week and spoke to Nurse S about his most recent SA. She didn’t give him any numbers (and yes, if I would have talked to her, I would have insisted). Instead, she used phrases like “something’s off” and “doesn’t look good,” which I find both annoyingly vague and not at all helpful. I’m tempted to call her myself and demand answers, but I’ve opted for the saner option of waiting until our appointment on May 2. Besides, they hadn’t even gotten the results of the bloodwork yet.
Hubby, in his usual optimistic manner, says that if there’s something there to look a little off, it’s better than nothing, which is what we’ve had up to this point. He also suggested that maybe she didn’t know his condition and that a really bad sample would still be an improvement over no sperm at all. I doubt that because she shouldn’t have been talking to him (let alone referencing his results) without his chart in front of her.
All of this is made only slightly better by the fact that Hubby did say it may not have been his best sample, at least in terms of volume.
Meanwhile, with absolutely no evidence to back me up, I’m proceeding as if we do indeed have sperm. We’re now on cycle three of making myself crazy in the two weeks between ovulation and getting my period. I’m not calling it a two week wait. I refuse. Because that implies we might actually have a shot at this without further intervention, which I know is unlikely. And besides, it’s more of a genuine surprise (miracle?) if I’m not expecting it.
This is what I tell myself in my lucid moments. The rest of the time, I imagine a little miracle embryo snuggling into my uterus. Because, as I’ve said before, I am bat-shit crazy.