Honey Boo Boo ain't got nothin on me...

Various couples close to us had started trying to get pregnant (or not trying not to). About four months into our journey rock bottom came in the form of a package. Although the hubs had noble intentions he waited till I was a few drinks in (okay more than a few) to tell me the news. In his loving "my wife is gonna blow a gasket" way he informed me that we had received a package in the mail that day. There was no time for him to finish-the tears were flowing and the screaming, sadness, and jealousy raged. "How dare someone not have the decency to tell us with more tact knowing our situation". "How self absorbed can they be that they didn't think to tell us more delicately". Yeah I'm a shitbag-although even now I have trouble admitting that. In my typical manner I jumped the gun. I raised hell on people that only wanted us to share in their joy. I had no joy so how could I feel it for someone else? I put my husband in an awkward position (although at the time I don't know that he was in a better emotional state than me). I held out a long time before fences were mended. Being stubborn hurts no one but the stubborn person. Two...three...pregnancy announcements...each one taken a little better than the last. End me being asshole...well I guess that could be up for debate.
Okay so no freeway to drive but are there cars in the garage? (Think analogy people)
One thing I have learned during this whole process is that doctors like to draw pictures. They draw pictures of ovaries, uteruses, testicles, clowns, fish, and who knows what else. If they get a chance to draw you a picture they do. Who cares if the patient's eyes have glazed over, they want to hit the point home by drawing you a picture. I think for Christmas this year we are going to get our doctors an Etch-A-Sketch...at least this way they can save a few trees.
After the urologist we were moving on the the fertility doctor. The appointment was uneventful. We went through the same question and answers sessions we had gone through before. Then it was time...time for the camera up my "peach". Thanks Flynn if you're reading this-it's almost as good as tallywacker. Unlike the hubs, I was nice enough to not kick him out of the room. Yadda yadda..."you have a healthy uterus" "enough room for twins"...yadda yadda. Hubs has been officially initiated into the world of womanhood minus the creepy alligator crank. Women, you know what I'm talking about.
That question again....
Is there a history of cystic fibrosis in your family?
Uhhhhhh...how bout you just cut to the chase because the hubs is horrible about remembering names, birthdates, what he ate for dinner the night before (unless there is leftovers in the fridge). There is NO WAY he can tell you his family medical history. One of the hubs few irritating qualities. Fast forward through a hole bunch of boring blood tests and WE HAVE AN ANSWER (well sort of)!
Long story short:
embryo=mutated cystic fibrosis gene
fetus=did not develop vas deferens
baby/man=natural vasectomy
Yeah I bet some of you men are jealous. Now on to the next hiccup in our journey (because the ones we have had have not been enough?). If I tested positive for being a carrier of the cystic fibrosis gene any child that we may potentially have would have 1 in 4 chance of having cystic fibrosis. This of course was assuming that the hubs even had sperm to father a child.
Then there it was, finally some good news, I was not a carrier.
Women think the speculum (creepy alligator crank ) is bad...a TESA is probably worse, and it is next on the agenda.
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