Isn't It Romantic?
Just fyi...I want to stay away from the gritty details of this post however I also want to be honest with all aspects of this process. So people can stay woke about it all :-)
A couple of weeks ago we did our first lab tests of our blood, urine, and sperm. This first test is to essentially see how healthy Adan and I are. It's also a chance for the doctors at Wisconsin Fertility Institute to observe whose sperm is stronger and more viable and whose will be a better match with the egg donor. The sperm donated during this test will not become our baby. And I am glad for that!
I went to St. Luke's on my own because Adan went a few days before me. I was nervous. I hate hospitals. And blood. I really hate shots! When I got stung by a scorpion in Mexico last summer, the I.V. is what almost made me faint. My mom used to tell me that it took three nurses to hold me down when I got my shots as a boy. Anyways, the lady at the lab desk, a typical Milwaukee secretary with long, manicured nails and big hoop earrings and snapping gum, didn't really make me feel at ease. She seemed annoyed I was there, and the test results that our doctor requested were lengthy and time-consuming.
"Each of these tests have a code," she sneered. "I have to type each and every code in. Find a seat. It'll take me a while."
I sat in the waiting room, my heart thumping. I could feel my face go pale. What was this going to be like? I've had blood and urine tests before but never sperm. I knew what it might be like from the movies I've seen. It usually happens in a comfortable little private room. Relaxing and nice, with a plush couch, lavender-painted walls, soft music playing. A charming lube or lotion dispenser. And, of course, an impressive stash of porn to choose from. The characters in the movies do their business, content and satisfied, and put the cup in a window which the staff takes discreetly and anonymously. Yeah, this is not what it ended up being like at all.
After the secretary asked for a few other nurses to help her with my lab requests, she finally called over a male nurse to do my tests. He seemed to be Russian. His hair was disheveled, he had a five o'clock shadow, one of his shoes were untied. Was this guy in middle school? He took me to a back room.
"Sit in big chairrr over zerrre," he instructed. I plopped down in it. I could feel a vein in my neck pulsing. I gulped. I was kind of hoping they'd get my sperm first. I mean, I might faint when they take the blood. Shouldn't the blood-letting happen last then? I was about to ask him --
"Which arrrm?" he asked. We both knew why he was asking that. One of them would need to stay strong. I told him my left arm. "Of kourrrse sirr."
I held my breath and said a prayer. Don't faint. Don't faint. Don't faint. He took my blood. It was actually pretty painless. I think he got like five vials or something crazy like that. And all I felt was a small prick. I looked away the entire time of course, reading a sign about HIV.
Then he gave me another cup.
"Zis is forr urine," he said. "Bathrrroom is rrright over zerre."
The bathroom was a public restroom. I had no problem with this task because I'd been drinking coffee all morning and saving my pee. My back teeth were practically floating. I completed the task with flying colors, exiting the bathroom and passing an old lady with a cup of pee in my hand
"Now sperrrm," he said, handing me my last cup. "Herrre I vill take you."
I followed him down a dark, empty hallway. We approached a gate. He bent over and he raised the gate through the ceiling, like those ones at the mall. We walked down some more shadowy and deserted hallways, our footsteps echoing. Scenarios ran through my head. Oh my God. What's happening? Was he gonna watch me? Is this like Fifty Shades of Russia? Is he going to...Like...Help me with this? Cheese and rice.
He led me to a private bathroom. Not a soul was around.
"I vill wait here," he said, sitting in a chair outside the room.
Is he seriously going to wait outside the door for me to finish? The pressure was on!
I entered the bathroom and shut the door. It was a normal single person bathroom. Sterile and cramped. A sink and toilet and that's it. It was nothing like the movies. There was no lube or lotion. No relaxing music, just the buzz of a fluorescent light. No couch. There wasn't even a chair! And since we were so deep into the hospital at this point, I couldn't even get any wifi to work. How would I...You know...Get excited?! Well, imagination station it'd have to be. Like the ol' days. I did my business. Tried my best to aim it inside the cup which was much harder than I thought it'd be. Washed my hands and exited the bathroom. It took me maybe four minutes.
The nurse was sitting in a chair with another male nurse. They both seemed to be speaking in Russian. They were guffawing, apparently shooting the shit. I handed him the bag of the cup with my sperm.
"Ve vill send you test rrresults," he said, as he led me back to the lab.
It was all very...Business-like. Cold. Arid. There was no heart or care or emotions in the whole process. I suppose that's okay for this first lab test. But I am hoping that when we donate the sperm that will actually become our baby there's a little more...Love in the air. More comfort and peace felt. I mean, straight people always make sure there's tangible love and peace and comfort in the room when conceiving happens, am I right?
But no really. Do you think a sperm knows? Do you think they come into the world eventually differently because of the way they were initially created? I don't know. I mean, I think I do believe this. I don't think a spermy should be produced with a Russian guy waiting outside the door.
I am hoping, next time, it's a little more like the movies.
A couple of weeks ago we did our first lab tests of our blood, urine, and sperm. This first test is to essentially see how healthy Adan and I are. It's also a chance for the doctors at Wisconsin Fertility Institute to observe whose sperm is stronger and more viable and whose will be a better match with the egg donor. The sperm donated during this test will not become our baby. And I am glad for that!
I went to St. Luke's on my own because Adan went a few days before me. I was nervous. I hate hospitals. And blood. I really hate shots! When I got stung by a scorpion in Mexico last summer, the I.V. is what almost made me faint. My mom used to tell me that it took three nurses to hold me down when I got my shots as a boy. Anyways, the lady at the lab desk, a typical Milwaukee secretary with long, manicured nails and big hoop earrings and snapping gum, didn't really make me feel at ease. She seemed annoyed I was there, and the test results that our doctor requested were lengthy and time-consuming.
"Each of these tests have a code," she sneered. "I have to type each and every code in. Find a seat. It'll take me a while."
I sat in the waiting room, my heart thumping. I could feel my face go pale. What was this going to be like? I've had blood and urine tests before but never sperm. I knew what it might be like from the movies I've seen. It usually happens in a comfortable little private room. Relaxing and nice, with a plush couch, lavender-painted walls, soft music playing. A charming lube or lotion dispenser. And, of course, an impressive stash of porn to choose from. The characters in the movies do their business, content and satisfied, and put the cup in a window which the staff takes discreetly and anonymously. Yeah, this is not what it ended up being like at all.
After the secretary asked for a few other nurses to help her with my lab requests, she finally called over a male nurse to do my tests. He seemed to be Russian. His hair was disheveled, he had a five o'clock shadow, one of his shoes were untied. Was this guy in middle school? He took me to a back room.
"Sit in big chairrr over zerrre," he instructed. I plopped down in it. I could feel a vein in my neck pulsing. I gulped. I was kind of hoping they'd get my sperm first. I mean, I might faint when they take the blood. Shouldn't the blood-letting happen last then? I was about to ask him --
"Which arrrm?" he asked. We both knew why he was asking that. One of them would need to stay strong. I told him my left arm. "Of kourrrse sirr."
I held my breath and said a prayer. Don't faint. Don't faint. Don't faint. He took my blood. It was actually pretty painless. I think he got like five vials or something crazy like that. And all I felt was a small prick. I looked away the entire time of course, reading a sign about HIV.
Then he gave me another cup.
"Zis is forr urine," he said. "Bathrrroom is rrright over zerre."
The bathroom was a public restroom. I had no problem with this task because I'd been drinking coffee all morning and saving my pee. My back teeth were practically floating. I completed the task with flying colors, exiting the bathroom and passing an old lady with a cup of pee in my hand
"Now sperrrm," he said, handing me my last cup. "Herrre I vill take you."
I followed him down a dark, empty hallway. We approached a gate. He bent over and he raised the gate through the ceiling, like those ones at the mall. We walked down some more shadowy and deserted hallways, our footsteps echoing. Scenarios ran through my head. Oh my God. What's happening? Was he gonna watch me? Is this like Fifty Shades of Russia? Is he going to...Like...Help me with this? Cheese and rice.
He led me to a private bathroom. Not a soul was around.
"I vill wait here," he said, sitting in a chair outside the room.
Is he seriously going to wait outside the door for me to finish? The pressure was on!
I entered the bathroom and shut the door. It was a normal single person bathroom. Sterile and cramped. A sink and toilet and that's it. It was nothing like the movies. There was no lube or lotion. No relaxing music, just the buzz of a fluorescent light. No couch. There wasn't even a chair! And since we were so deep into the hospital at this point, I couldn't even get any wifi to work. How would I...You know...Get excited?! Well, imagination station it'd have to be. Like the ol' days. I did my business. Tried my best to aim it inside the cup which was much harder than I thought it'd be. Washed my hands and exited the bathroom. It took me maybe four minutes.
The nurse was sitting in a chair with another male nurse. They both seemed to be speaking in Russian. They were guffawing, apparently shooting the shit. I handed him the bag of the cup with my sperm.
"Ve vill send you test rrresults," he said, as he led me back to the lab.
It was all very...Business-like. Cold. Arid. There was no heart or care or emotions in the whole process. I suppose that's okay for this first lab test. But I am hoping that when we donate the sperm that will actually become our baby there's a little more...Love in the air. More comfort and peace felt. I mean, straight people always make sure there's tangible love and peace and comfort in the room when conceiving happens, am I right?
But no really. Do you think a sperm knows? Do you think they come into the world eventually differently because of the way they were initially created? I don't know. I mean, I think I do believe this. I don't think a spermy should be produced with a Russian guy waiting outside the door.
I am hoping, next time, it's a little more like the movies.
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