to vote for favorites. Only 6 votes needed to get on the list.Fathering a child after a vasectomy is not easy. That is redundant. What I mean to say is that if you change your mind, there are some challenges. The first one is accepting that I am an idiot, because my obstacles are self imposed.
There are two ways to proceed. I can go under the knife to reverse the procedure, which my previous experience caused me to remove from the list immediately. What remains is In Vitro Fertilization (IVF).
The first step is sperm retrieval, which is exactly what it sounds like. I have had two vasectomies and a humorous infection. Getting sperm out of me capable of more than drooling and swimming in a circle may be a challenge. Many men perform this feat armed with only a plastic cup and their imagination. The vasectomy makes that method non-productive, at least from a sperm retrieval point of view, so I must employ more elaborate measures.
When I think of providing sperm samples it is fun to envision a cute nurse. The nurse, her uniform, and the procedure she performs, flagrantly violate proper codes of conduct. Surgical equipment and latex gloves have no reason to exist in this fantasy world.
Just like in the fantasy, I am naked from the waist down, but no other similarities exist. For one thing, the bed in the fantasy does not have stirrups. The procedure extracts sperm from the source with a needle connected to a small suction device. It is not nearly as Spanish Inquisition as it sounds, but Michelle did use the word “digging” to describe what it looked like from her viewpoint.
She sits in a chair beside the doctor, at crotch level, and watches with a pained expression. The freezing is working great, because I can’t feel a thing, but the testicles are hardwired to every piece of the male anatomy, so there are repercussions other than pain.
The nurse looks down at me and asks if I am feeling all right because I look pale and sweaty. She connects me to a heart rate monitor and we watch as I fall into the high thirties. Apparently, that is not good. “Do you know your normal heart rate?” I do not. Everyone starts to get concerned. Even the doctor and his needle pause for a second. I feel like Al Pacino in the opening scene of Carlito’s Way. Everyone is making such a fuss, and I feel fine.
This is the third time I have let someone have a go at my testicles with something sharp, and once again, it is not going well. They should give out merit badges for shit like this. Then you could wear your colonoscopy of ’08 with pride. Badge or not, this kid will hear about what was involved in bringing him into the world.
The procedure is a success. Viable sperm are retrieved and I do not pass out. My heart rate returns to its normal resting rate in the low sixties, a number the nurse says indicates athleticism, which is good, because my sperm have other challenges ahead of them.
Samples are placed in tiny tubes, called straws, and frozen. When the time comes they will be thawed and inspected. One hardy little bastard will be chosen and put into action. The final selection requires the ability to survive to that point, and random chance from amongst all those who do. In this way, it’s just like the real thing.
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[...] involvement in getting Michelle pregnant is largely over. The clinic secured a sperm sample from me which concludes my contribution. In IVF, just like a natural pregnancy, after sperm [...]
[...] need sperm, and more than a plastic cup and happy thoughts were required for me to participate. I’ve written about this elsewhere, I almost passed out, but other than that, it went [...]