I just completed administering today’s progesterone in oil (PIO) shot. Unlike the HCG trigger shot—the first intramuscular injection—of a few days ago which seemed daunting (more on this to come, as I’ve written a piece on that topic for the next issue of Exhale Magazine), I’ve become accustomed to “sticking it in my wife’s ass” each evening. L numbs up the target area with an ice pack, while I prepare the syringe and ice pick (might I add, BIG FUCKING) needle.  A quick alcohol rubdown, wait for it to dry a second, and then I plunge it in. No fuss. Little muss (thankfully no bleeders… yet).

We’re pretty nonchalant about the whole thing.

L’s noticed that her ass seems to get sorer, day by day. She takes that without complaint.

I’ve noticed that L’s tits seem to get bigger, day by day, too. I have no complaints, either.

We’re now 30 hours post embryo transfer. L’s spent the day relaxing, and I’ve been (perhaps obsessively) making sure that she pretty much does nothing on her own behalf. Medically, I’m pretty certain there’s no basis in my actions. But, at least I feel like I’m doing something to help ensure that things go smoothly.

While not waiting on L, I’ve spent the rest of the day organizing and cleaning at home.

I wonder if this is some sort of nascent paternal nesting instinct? Or, maybe I’m just tired of the fact that we moved into this house over two years ago and still haven’t finished unpacking yet?!?

In any case, progress has been made.

Today, I witnessed something sublime: the transfer of two perfectly-formed, microscope embryos from a Petri dish into my wife’s uterus.

I don’t say this lightly, carelessly throwing the word around as a mere adjective.

I literally mean sublime: something that is supreme, without equal, and awe inspiring.

Intellectually, I easily comprehend the process of IVF in terms of science and technology: the union of a human egg and sperm, brought together outside of the human body to divide and grow, and then returned to its natural home. Right, I get it.

Yet, I sat in the embryo transfer room today transfixed by the experience.

The entire process—from L getting in and out of the stirrups—lasted maybe 10 minutes. The actual embryo transfer was completed in just seconds. But, in these brief moments, I had a rush of thoughts, feelings, and emotions.

Most of all, I was struck with a sense of awe.

I was witness to the creation of a human life in its earliest stages. And, if successful, that life would be the one of my child. Talk about a moment of clarity. For perhaps the first time, I fully and deeply understood not just the process, but also the possibilities, of IVF.

This must be what Kant described as the “noble sublime.”

I was left speechless, holding back tears, and sitting in quite wonder.

Today was an amazing gift. I realize some people are fortunate in conceiving children easily. For us, it has been a struggle. But, now we’ve had a rare and wondrous experience too. For that, I’m grateful.

No matter what the future holds, I hope that I’m able to hold onto this day.

One of L’s favorite infertility / IVF blogs is Murgdan’s Conceive This!, which I can understand as it is both smart and funny (something I aspire to achieve here).   

Anyway, Murgdan had an even crappier day yesterday than us, as IVF cycle #1 officially flamed out with a negative result on her blood test. This was after a seemingly successful cycle and a five-day transfer of two good embryos. Of course, she posted these results on her blog and a flood of supportive comments came pouring in.

In looking at the comments, I noticed most were from women. It seems there aren’t nearly as many dudes (at least not actively participating) in the IVF blogosphere. I think that’s unfortunate. And, it’s one of the things I’m hoping this blog will provide: a male voice on issues of infertility.

I found a blog post today which attempted to generalize the communication differences between men and women related to IVF as a means of explaining (or perhaps justifying) the blogger’s husband’s unwillingness to discuss infertility and apparent apathy toward having a child. Specifically the author said:

I still think it is unbelievably frustrating that we were never really on the same page in our thoughts, concerns and fears regarding infertility. However, I do have to concede that I honestly don’t believe it is a result of communication conflicts between my husband and I. Rather, I think it is more the fault of inherent communication conflicts between men and women.

My take: what a load of crap!

As a man in the midst of infertility treatment, I’ve spent countless hours talking to L about our situation. We’ve discussed, planned, argued, compromised, consoled, and comforted each other throughout the process. For us, communication is not a problem.

That said, plentiful communication doesn’t always equate to like minds.

And, sometimes communicating our personal truths to each other has been painful.

For example, I am (or at least was) more ambivalent about having children than L. For her, it’s a need. She feels like she has to be a mother in life. For me, it’s a want. I’m excited (and also made somewhat anxious) by the prospect of being a father, but it’s more of the icing on top of the cake (and not the cake itself) for me.

To me, it sounds like this blogger’s husband was in a similar place to me emotionally. But, he appeared unwilling to express his feelings. And, really, she didn’t seem to want to hear that he wasn’t as “into it” at the time as she was anyway.

Of course, L didn’t want to hear this from me either. At least not initially. Yet, I felt it was important for us to fully understand both our individual and shared feelings. Having had this dialogue, we’ve been able to reach common ground, understand one another better, and proceed through treatment with relatively little drama, supporting one another along the way.

In the end, I think communication is important. But, empathy is probably even more so.