I still remember the day when my wife told me she thought she was pregnant. It was a cold, but sunny January day in 2004. We'd been home about a week from our Christmas holiday in England where we had been visiting family (my wife in English). I was tooling around in my detached 2-car garage, smoking a Macanudo and talking to a friend on my mobile when my wife called to me from the house. I said that I'd be there momentarily and it was typical for me to finish what I was doing before seeing what she wanted.
I carried on with my conversation and about 30 seconds later she called for me again. At that point I figured it had to be important because I usually had a 10 minute grace period before coming in. When I got in the house, my wife was holding one of those pregnancy test strips, and she was shaking. She said, "I think I'm pregnant!" We both stood there, amazed, dazed and confused before smiling at each other and kissing and hugging.
This was not planned, and it certainly wasn't expected. In 1992, while being married to someone else I was told that I had a double varicocele, and that having the operation performed would likely help me become a Dad. To explain what a varicocele is, the following was taken from this source:
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002263
A varicocele forms when valves inside the veins along the spermatic cord prevent blood from flowing properly. This causes the blood to back up, leading to swelling and widening of the veins. (This is essentially the same process that leads to varicose veins, which are common in the legs.)
Varicoceles usually develop slowly. They are more common in men ages 15 - 25 and are most often seen on the left side of the scrotum. Varicoceles are often the cause of infertility in men.
Well, I had the procedure done, and trust me, it wasn't what I'd consider fun. About 6 weeks later, I went back to the doctor's office where they provided me all the necessary tools to fill a small cup for my sperm test. Another two weeks goes by and I get to see the doctor again. He advised me that the procedure wasn't a success and that I had a one in six million chance of ever getting someone pregnant. Now picture all the air coming out of a balloon and you'll know how I felt.
Here I am 47 years old, married (again) to a wonderful woman. We were living life knowing children weren't going to be a part of the equation. We traveled a lot, we did things together, we enjoyed separate activities sometimes. I had my Harley, which had me spending a lot of time with the boys, and a motorcycle club (another story). We were DINK's (Double Income, No Kids) and we liked it. We were even planning on building a log cabin in upstate New York. Now all that freedom is going to come to a screeching halt. We weren't upset about it. We were surprised.
A couple of weeks went by and we had an appointment with my wife's doctor in New York City where she worked, and used to live. We went for the ultra-sound, which that in itself is pretty exciting. They applied the cold, blue gel to my wife's tummy, and the technician moved the probe around until, bingo... there's a baby. We thought, wow, how cool. About 5 seconds later, the technician says, "there's the second one". What? we exclaimed. Two?!?
We left that office stunned, amazed and happy. This stage was only the beginning.
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