Yesterday, my wife told me that I'm going to be a father.
I knew something was up as soon as i walked in our condo. Normally, when I get home from work, I will observe one of three things. One, the TV in our living room is on, meaning that Allison will be on the adjacent couch curled up in her usual spot. Option B, light is peeking out from the slats in the laundry room door, and I can assume she's folding clothes. Or finally, if I hear clanging in the kitchen, she's making dinner for us. On this particular afternoon, none of those things were happening. Instead, I came in and everything was quiet, until Allison just kind of stepped out from the hallway and said it.
Actually, she didn't tell me, so much as walk me into our bathroom, point at a little blue object on the counter, and smile at me with a silly little grin.
For a split second, I actually didn't get it. Did I mentioned I'm a little stupid? Only a split second, mind you. Then the realization came rushing in like a waterfall. I don't remember exactly what I said, which is a shame for my storytelling, but I think it was something to the effect of "Holy s***".
Now I'm sure I'm not the only man to have ever reacted that way, but let me give a little backstory. Six years ago, when I was 20, I was diagnosed with stage 4 testicular cancer. It was sudden and unexpected, and forced me to drop out of college, undergo intensive, prolonged, and even experimental treatment for a year. Allison and I started dating within the first several weeks of my diagnosis, after having been friends for years but never dating. Talk about "Lovers in a Dangerous Time", we entered into that relationship knowing that it was what we both wanted, but with no idea what the outcome of my illness would be. clinically speaking, I had about a 50/50 chance of surviving, which Allison knew from the beginning, and even so she never once wavered in her support and love for me.
As my treatment progressed, I had to make decisions about the future of my fertility. The doctors encouraged me to bank my sperm cryogenically before any of my treatment. Allison, again showing her maturity and selflessness, told me that when the time came and we wanted to have kids, she would be open to whatever options were available to us, be it artificial insemination, adoption, and so on. So it was settled. I banked my sperm, they took my cancer theatrical, and within a year, against all odds, I beat my cancer with one healthy testicle intact.
I began my remission in 2006, and it wasn't until 2009 that I took a fertility test. To my disappointment, the doctor told me that I had a very low sperm count, even after 3 years of being in perfect health. My motility was also low, and I would likely have difficulty conceiving on my own. It was hard news it hear, but I still felt strangely confidant that it could, and would happen one day. It also helped that I knew Allison was willing to try mwhatever options we needed to try. And so on went our lives, we got engaged in June 2008, married in November 2010. We bought a house and have lived there almost 2 years.
About a month ago, we talked about "trying" for a baby, in the very loosest sense possible. By that I mean that we agreed to stop actively preventing it, and basically just leave it in God's hands. No charting cycles, no temperature taking, no prenatal vitamins, just willful negligence. I think we felt ready, and we wanted to see if it was even possible. I'm not sure if I was a skeptic, or if I was just protecting myself emotionally from being disappointed if it didn't happen. Either was, I thought it would be very very unlikely.
And so here I am, on June 7th, 2012. My wife is pointing to a blue object on the bathroom counter with a little blue "+" on it. And I can't believe it.
The impossible baby is going to be a reality.
So here goes nothing!
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