Some of you may know that Jane and I have been trying for a baby for a good few years now — since we were snuggly holed up in the Highlands of Scotland, in fact. But so far nothing. Not a hint of a pregnancy.
A few months ago (probably more than I would like to admit) Jane and I went to see one of the GPs at our local practice to enquire about what steps we could take to get ourselves checked out in the baby-making depts. Of course, the process had to begin with me and we left — after our 30 minutes consultation with the doctor — clutching a small, clear plastic pot and an A4 sheet of instructions.
The intructions were as clear as the pot: wait 3 days, deposit a semen sample in the pot (!) and run like the wind to the Royal Infirmary while keeping the pot at body temperature (like HOW!?). Needless to say, I’ve not been yet. (Was ‘been’ the right tense to use there?) For a couple of reasons: first, the last few months haven’t exactly been characterised by perfect health, and second, well, it’s a rather daunting prospect. Having children is something that I always imagined would just happen. Having them, I reckoned would be the easy bit; bringing them up and coping with that I always thought would be where the challenges would lie. I appear to be wrong.
Anyway, tomorrow is Thursday and therefore one of the days that I can take my sample into the hospital (I do hope they are open again after the holidays), and Jane is also on holiday so she is going with me, for moral support and to help me feel a little less self-conscious.
I’m not entirely sure what the process is once we get the results of the sperm sample… my sperm sample. As Jane said to me the other day, it is more likely that the problems lie with her as there is more there to go wrong. But once we start on this path it will be, I imagine, not always be an easy one. Here goes though…