The appointment at the fertility clinic is later this morning. I spent last evening filling out a fuckton of paperwork (yes, that is the technical term) and Whoa! is this guy ever going to know me and my lady bits well. I know it's his job and all but holy shit! There's not a lot of dignity involved in the business of making a baby when it doesn't all go as planned. OK, so there's not a lot of dignity involved in the making of a baby the old-fashioned way either, but it's a hell of a lot more fun.
I'm not the only one staring down a little indignity on a Monday morning. The Husband is still asleep, soon he'll wake up and get a cranky toddler ready for daycare. How do I know she'll be cranky? She's as much of a morning person as her mother. After enjoying a sexless Father's Day, he'll take things in hand to bring a specimen to the clinic. I do not recommend Googling anything to do with sperm collection. However I'm quick to point out that I'm sure he starts a number of his days off with some quality time alone with his thoughts. The only difference today is a time limit and cup.
Apparently they'll do a whole lot of testing at the outset to find out what we're dealing with so maybe by the time we get back from our trip they'll have an idea of what we're up against. Though we're just as likely to have appointments for more tests. Wish us luck!
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