Our Infertility Story: Checking His Swimmers

“It is no use saying, ‘We are doing our best.’ You have got to succeed in doing what is necessary.”
~Winston Churchill


Our Infertility Story: The Beginning

Our Infertility Story: The Specialist 

Our Infertility Story: My HSG

Our Infertility Story: The Eye of the Storm

I now know that getting his sperm checked was not an easy thing for my husband (or any man) to do. I think he was really scared that everything would turn out to be his “fault” and he wouldn’t be able to give me the child that I so desperately wanted.

He wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted to be able to provide for me; to give me anything I wanted. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to.

At the same time, I think he knew that I wanted his results to be less than ideal…because I needed our infertility to be a partnership. I didn’t want this all to be my “fault.”

He confided in me on the car ride over to the doctor’s office, that he was afraid I would leave him if he turned out to be the problem. I tried to reassure him that I loved him. He was (and is) my everything. My best friend. Truly.

I also tried to explain to him that part of the reason I was hoping something might be wrong with him is because male issues are so much easier (and cheaper) to treat than female issues. Often times, diet and lifestyle changes, plus a vitamin regiment is all it takes to help men.

We have a mutual friend who, not so long ago, had a zero healthy sperm count. He and his wife recently welcomed a beautiful baby girl. It just took some small changes before they could welcome their healthy baby.

So I knew that if it was him, it would probably be easier to treat.

He told me later that the process was rather disagreeable. He walked down the hallway to (in his words) “the room of shame.” He felt like everyone in the entire building knew what he was doing, and that he felt dirty. Of course, that’s silly. He was doing his part to help us have a child. I find that to be an incredibly strong and giving thing to do.

I won’t go into too much detail on his seaman annalysis, because I’m assuming the process here is pretty self explanatory.

We had to wait a few days for the results.

I was in my car, on my way to work when the office called me to give us his results. I held my breath, while the nurse confirmed my fears.

My husband has good sperm; no problems. At all.

We scheduled an appointment with the doctor for the following week before I quickly hung up the phone. I had been holding back tears, and I needed to be free to be emotionally vulnerable.

I called my husband at work, and couldn’t keep the pain from my voice. I cried as I gave him the results, and he tried his best to comfort me.

It was not an easy day for me at work, but when I came home, there was a vase of flowers, and a small plant waiting for me on the kitchen table.


He almost never buys me flowers, not liking to give me a gift that is essentially dead. I mean, I always kill plants anyway, so I’m not sure why he bothers with them either.

I was touched by his thoughtfulness. I know how relieved he was, to know that the problem wasn’t him…but it made everything seem so much worse in my mind. The weight of the infertility became heavier, as I now knew it was only my burden to bare.

My husband was amazing (as usual) as we prepared for our next sit down with the doctor. I was really scared, but as it turns out, the visit was filled with a lot more hope that I originally anticipated.

But that is a story for another day.


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