Mr. Jem went for his third SA (3rd in one week) today. The first one had 5 sperm, zero motile, the second had 7 sperm, but at least they were moving (still not good enough). The amazing thing is Mr. Jem is not discouraged. He keeps asking, "When is the ER? How much time do I have?" I reply, "It will be around January 15." He replies, "Oh, good, that's enough time." I love that man so much. He's so courageous, so positive, so loving. He'll be such an amazing dad. It makes me cry to type these words. It's so damn unfair.
I ran across this post about being a dad: Dad's Don't Leave. (Go ahead and give it a read and then come back here. I'll wait...)
The blog post made me cry. I cried because my own dad was there when my mom left me behind to "find herself." Cried because for years my own dad was only a Disney.dad, and then later after I grew up he was so self-absorbed (only calling to ask for $$) that he wasn't a real dad. It's only been in the last couple of years, since he had a life-threatening illness and surgery that he's actually been able to be present in our relationship. Now he has a new life companion and is happy. That makes me happy.
I cried for Mr. Jem while reading that blog, too. Cried because he'll be such a wonderful dad. Cried for the army of great men out there who have been robbed from the opportunity of being dads because of IF. I cried for all of your wonderful men who silently stand by as we go through uncomfortable and invasive medical procedures. They help stick us with sharp needles. They go perform intimate acts in sterile rooms. They agree to testicular biopsies, take hormones, do acupuncture (yes, Mr. Jem did acupuncture!), and take Chinese herbs. They do this without complaint (okay, maybe a little complaining).
They are the quiet heroes in this.
I love you, Mr. Jem and all you Mr. Jems out there!