Dad’s Dish: Avoiding the cup.

Wow, so all that “bonin'” and no luck! It makes sense, however, cause all the experts in all the literature out there scream that the stars have to be perfectly in line for even the healthiest of would-be parents to conceive. “They” say that my wife and I (and only if we’re said healthiest folks) have a maximum 25 percent chance of getting pregnant in any given month. “They” say not to worry, give it a couple of tries, we are probably totally normal, and blah di blah blah blah…

Now, I realize we would have had to have been pretty extremely lucky to have gotten pregnant so quickly, but what all these experts in all the literature don’t tell us is how to stop thinking about that worst case scenario even though it is probably just a matter of Venus and Jupiter not being on the same parallel as the third loop in Orion’s Belt. How do we refrain from worrying that my swimmers are not a little on the slow side due to those years and years of smoking cigs, experimenting with drugs like so many a nouveau hippie and otherwise taking full advantage of the “freedom” that college offers a young risk-taker? How am I to be totally calm when I’m picturing a cold, sterile room with a porn mag and a little cup, a bunch of nurses lying in wait to criticize my deposit? (A little inadequate, no?) How am I supposed to shake the fact that my wife’s diabetes, abnormal blood clotting factor and an unconfirmed but probable case of endometriosis might make getting knocked up a little tricky?

All the experts in all the literature don’t tell me that.

Meanwhile, I’m happy with the care and attention we’ve been receiving from staff at Boston’s Newton-Wellesley. I did not expect docs would give us so much time in pre-pregnancy, but they’ve been extremely attentive. (Of course, the attention may be warranted since it appears as if our providers have already determined our would-be pregnancy to be “high risk,” but we’ll take it!) Our new genetic counselor, for instance, was informative, thorough and socially-ept. I love that she was great about including me: a lowly dude.

Typical of men’s experiences at women’s doctor visits, I’m used to being completely ignored. Ask a question and the attending physician looks past me. I hate that. Dude. I asked the question. I am here. I have a stake in this pregnancy, too. Sure it’s her body. And it’s her body that’s going to be doing all the hard work. But I love her. And really? What am I? A freaking coat hanger? Health care providers, take note. If a would-be dad shows up at a visit, and particularly where he’s clearly interested, pay attention! Keep dads involved! Let us at least attempt to share our favorite lady’s load! Don’t play into the stereotype that babies are women’s work. That’s bullshit.

After all, at least some of us guys are secretly or not-so-secretly also a little worked up about if and when and how. Fingers crossed, and try, try again.
Advertisements

About Projected Progenitor

Projected (adj.) (prə-ˈjekt-ed): From the 15th Century Anglo-French 'projector,' from Latin 'projectus.' Devised in the mind, predicted. Progenitor (n.) (prō-ˈje-nə-tər): Middle English, from the 14th Century Anglo-French 'progenitour,' from Latin 'progenitor,' meaning 'to beget.' An ancestor in the direct line, foreparent.
This entry was posted in Dad's Dish, High-Risk Pregnancy, Humor, Pre-Conception. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s