I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that until the proverbial bun is closer to exiting the oven expectant fathers have almost nothing to do. I’m not saying that L’s pregnancy has been dragging on forever… only that it’s pretty boring siting in the parking lot at Fatherland waiting for the gates to open. I think it’s one of the reasons—in addition to a lot of travel and work responsibilities—that I haven’t posted a lot on the blog lately. There’s really not a lot to talk about. Pregnancy-wise everything has been (blissfully) normal and uneventful.

In some ways, it’s a lot like the waiting to start IVF. Once the plan was in place and the treatment paid for, we pretty much just sat around and waited for the games to begin. My (online) friend Myndi, who’s getting ready to start an IVF cycle, was commenting on this the other day.

So, here we are: standing around in the kitchen….

She’s waiting for her dough to rise. For my part, I’m waiting for the cinnamon bun to get a little closer to done before I start making the icing and putting on the coffee.

I’ve discovered that while men don’t seem to generally want to talk about infertility when they’re in the midst of it, they seem to positively gush out details after they’ve successfully had children. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve heard all sorts of stories related to infertility, miscarriage, and childbirth.

These same men are also really willing to “tell their stories” about fatherhood. I’m going to start recording some of the more interesting observations and experiences here (after making them anonymous). I’m particularly interested by their willingness to share the raw emotion (good and bad) associated with these experiences.

In other news…

We spent some time this weekend getting ready for the trip. L was struggling with packing, because some of her clothing is starting not to fit properly. Due to her now more ample cleavage, many of her tops are either 1) actually too small, or 2) simply looking too good on (if you know what I mean). Pants are also becoming a struggle, as she doesn’t like anything too tight. It’s a challenge…

L is going for her next OB check-up this week. I’ll make sure to post details on it.

I’m headed to Washington DC tomorrow.

Now that we’re “out of the closet” so to speak, we’ve been telling friends and colleagues about our joyful news. In most cases, we haven’t mentioned the IVF, primarily because it just doesn’t come up. (I think twins might have yielded more baby-making related questions.) Of course, in a few instances, we’ve discussed our difficulties and the associated treatment, assuming people wanted to hear.

That said, I have one friend who I’ve avoided telling until yesterday.

Let’s call him “Bob.”

A few years ago, Bob was in town on business, and we met up for dinner at the world famous Bern’s Steak House in Tampa. We had an enjoyable meal and had moved onto the dessert room for dessert (surprise) and an after-dinner drink. Somehow the conversation moved on to children, and Bob confided in me the struggles he and his wife had had in TTC. At this time, L and I hadn’t even started TTC yet nor was I anything that even remotely resembled an expert on matters of infertility. So, I just patiently listened to the tale of woe, tried to remain sympathetic, and generally kept (thankfully based on what I’ve now learned) any stupid suggestions or opinions to myself.

Bottom line: after much treatment, Bob and his wife were not going to be able to biologically have kids.

Fast-forward to this week.

I had to tell Bob about our struggles and success (I only see him semi-regularly, but I couldn’t keep a child a secret for the rest of our lives). So, here’s what I said (after making small talk about other “news”):

I have some other news as well. After some unexpected challenges and then associated medical intervention (which I know you’re all too familiar with as well), L and I are expecting a child. She’s due in early February. Needless to say, we’re thrilled and excited by the prospect. We’re also extremely grateful for our good fortune in a way that I don’t think is possible unless you’ve struggled.

Seemingly, he took it very well. He offered me his congratulations and seemed to appreciate my sense of tact, saying something to the effect of “dealing with the emptiness is hard for us.”

Yeah, I know, my friend. Believe me. I know.

Today was a mildly momentous day: L stopped taking progesterone.

She’d been on PIO shots until a couple of weeks ago. At that time, she switched to Crinone 8% (which is really expensive but fortunately was covered by our medical insurance because it was pregnancy and not infertility related). As a result, the past few weeks have been far more comfortable… and I’m no longer a nightly “pain in the ass” by administering shots.

All told, we probably have something on the order of $1000 in unused pharmaceuticals and supplies (extras from during and/or after the IVF cycle). At some point, we’ll need to dispose of them. For now, we’re keeping them around as a kind of “military surplus” in our War on Infertility, though we hope to live in peace from this point forward.

Well, I’m back from my brief trip to Washington, D.C. This month is going to be a whirlwind of (business) travel, followed by our planned annual (vacation) journey to London in early August. I actually have a lot to bring you up to speed on: telling the fam about the pregnancy status (and IVF history); first “normal” OB/GYN appointment; update on the PIO shots, etc.

However, I don’t have the time or energy for all of that tonight. I just need to relax… and unwind.

Exhale.

That’s what I need! To take a breather, which we all need from time to time.

This seems especially apropos, as my first column at Exhale Magazine came out today! Yup. That’s right. I’m now one of the regular writers for this smart online magazine for people who have either lost babies or struggle to make them in the first place.

So, I’ll have more to say tomorrow. But, in the meantime, why not go Exhale with me tonight?