A wake up call

"Hi, Mrs. Dandelion Bud. It's Nicki from Dr. RE's office. I just wanted to tell you we got all of Mr. Dandelion Bud's blood work back. The genetics are all normal."

On one hand, that wake up call this morning was good news. No hidden genetic issue to worry about as Mr. DB gets older... no genetic issue to pass on to unsuspecting children...

No explanation for our Male Factor Infertility... that's the other hand.

There's nothing we can try to fix. There's no concrete explanation. We're left with conjecture. "Has there been any trauma to the testicles?" Not directly. Mr. DB had a bilateral hernia repair as a child. "Oh, the hernia repair". Only one side was affected, but the surgeon recommended repairing both sides "just in case".

Our RE says science is finding that these hernia repairs are commonly the cause of male infertility, lacking any other diagnosable explanation. One little slip of the scalpel... one surgeon with less than 100% focus... one surgeon not considering his 4 year old patients' future fertility.

And then there is none.

So, now what? Now it's IVF with ICSI.

What will happen is after I go back on months of birth control pills to rest my ovaries and sync to the RE's schedule, I'll get shots. Every day. Painful shots that will stimulate my ovaries to produce bagillions of eggs. Or 12. Whichever. Mr. DB will "provide a sample". They'll pick the best of his and the best of mine, and they'll inject the best sperm into my eggs.

And then we'll wait. And

Short of one careless doctor 30 years ago, we have no explanation for what we're going through. All I know is, while our diagnosis is "MALE" factor infertility, the physical pain is mine. The emotional pain - that belongs squarely to both of us.

FUIF. Really.