The Long and Winding Road

Many people are under the assumption, a rather false assumption, that when you have sex with someone without benefit of artificial birth control, that you are on the road to parenthood. Such is not the case.
My wife and I had wanted children from the time of our marriage. Looking back, it is most assuredly a good thing that we were not able to have children during the early years of our marriage.

We were young and in love and in no financial shape to have children at that time. As time wore on and we became more mature and more financially stable, the old parenting genes kicked into overdrive and we both began to feel the need to nurture and care for another human being.

We began to actively try to get my wife pregnant during our fifth year of marriage. We were living in Savannah and had our own business and had no desire to move. We wanted to build our family right there in the city we had adopted as our own.

My wife had always kept a careful record of her monthly cycle and she made notations in her pocket calendar. She noted every time we made love and took extreme care to note when she was ovulating.

The first time we made love was a pleasant experience. We were still young and in love. We assumed that afterwards we would just sit back and wait nine months for the baby to arrive and then we would be a family.

As luck would have it, we must have missed our objective the first month, for my dear wife called me at work and dolefully told me the news.

"I'm not pregnant." She said.

"Why?" I asked, as if she knew. “Is something wrong?"

“I don't think so. I guess we just didn't do something right." She said with hurt in her voice.

“I guess we just have to try harder this time." She said, grudgingly. I agreed and we put the matter to rest until the next month.

The next month we tried again- twice just to make sure. The results were the same. No baby.

The third month we were back in the trenches and we figured three times were a lucky number but, no avail. We began to meet almost daily to ensure that we couldn't miss. Nothing we did seemed to work. We were both becoming a little discouraged. Maybe we would never have a child.


By the end of the fifth month, the daily ritual was becoming hard to continue. After all we weren't newlyweds anymore. How could we be expected to keep going at this rate?

We came to the conclusion that there must be something wrong with one of us. My wife had been to her doctor and had been declared to be perfectly fit to bear a child. The ball fell in my court.

It was assumed that I was the one with the faulty plumbing. My wife's gynecologist recommended a urologist and an appointment was made.
It should be said here that no man likes to think that there is something wrong with him but to think that there is something wrong with him sexually is quite another matter entirely.
I had tried for weeks to think of possible reasons that my wife hadn't gotten pregnant. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe the tests were inaccurate and she was really pregnant after all. Maybe the
Pope was Jewish.
My wife would hear none of it and she dragged me down to the doctor’s office for the appointment. He was a Korean man, Dr. Coon Cause Tin. An Asian Marcus Welby, if you will.
We were ushered into his office and the nurse informed us that the doctor would be with us shortly. In the office, the first thing to catch our eye was a prototype of a penile imp1ant sitting square on the desk in front of our seats.

“Wow," said my wife, holding the inflator. "We could have used this last night."

"If you are going to get nasty, I can just go home now." I said matter-of-factly.

"Shut up and sit down." She said. "The doctor will be here soon, just calm down and relax."

"Relax!!! And just how do you propose that I am supposed to relax? We're here to see if I can father a child. How is that supposed to make me relax? Will you answer me that?"

"Gee. Touchy aren't we. I'm sorry I said anything." She said, pouting.

"So am I." I said, pouting more. Thankfully the doctor arrived just then and kept us from the ensuing blows. He paid no attention to the half inflated prototype on the desk(we couldn't find the release valve). Looking very much like Lon Chaney in one of those horrible old horror movies, the doctor introduced himself to us.

"Your wife's doctor has informed me of the situation and I would like to tell you that we will do all that we can to help. I must get some information from you and then we can proceed with the tests." Sitting down, he took my cart and started to ask questions. "Do you drink, smoke cigarettes, or take intravenous drugs?"

“Occasionally, quit three years ago, no." I answered.

"Have you ever had Gonorrhea, Syphilis, or any other sexually transmitted disease?"

“No.”

“How many times a week do you have sex?"

“Before or now?"

“Now.”

“Every Night.”

"You are trying too hard. Every other night is plenty. If you do more often, your sperm count will be too low. You not have baby with no sperm."

"Thanks, Doctor." I said, standing up. "I appreciate the advice. Come on honey."

"Wait. We have only just begun. We have tests to run and I must give examination to determine proper diagnosis. Come, let us go to the examination room and get started; You stay here mommy."

I reluctantly followed him across the hall into a tiny cubicle of a room. It was scarcely furnished with an exam table and two cabinets and the required three year old Boys Life Magazines. (There is something strange about a urologist with ‘Boys Life’ in his exam room.)

The doctor handed me a flimsy paper nightgown and excused himself while I readied for the exam. When he returned, the look on his face no longer reminded me of Lon Chaney, but that of the Marquis de Sade.

I was poked and prodded in so many places; I began to feel like a pin cushion. I promised myself that the child better he worth it. When it was all over, he told me to get dressed and to meet him back in his office. As I dressed I could not help but feel that it was a hopeless cause and that we would never have children. I was setting myself up for a pity-party. I walked back into the office and the doctor had not returned yet. There was my wife, reading his diplomas to insure that he was a "real" doctor.

"What did he say?" She asked, her eyebrows arched in consternation.

"Nothing yet, he just examined me. He said to meet him back here."

“I hope he hurries," She said. "I feel kind of strange sitting here in his office with all these devices and things."

"Now you know how I feel when I go with you to the gynecologist; All those pregnant women looking at me as if I were the reason for their being there. I get the feeling that if looks could kill…." At that moment, the doctor came into the room moving swiftly so that his smock just barely fluttered in his wake.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dudubiel," He said in his best English. "It will take three or four days for the lab results. I would like to schedule another appointment with you for Friday in order to read the results and allow you to bring a specimen."

"Specimen?" I more said than asked. "What kind of specimen?"

"A sperm specimen, of course." He said, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a baby food jar. He sat it on the table and scooted it across to me. "You will need to fill this and bring it back on Friday when you come back."

"Fill it? How long do I have?" I asked, incredulously.

"I do not mean for you to fill it. I just say to put something in it. Do you understand?"

I understood. I wished that I hadn't, but I did. I picked up the jar and stuffed it into my overcoat. I didn't want to be seen carrying it out. We thanked the doctor and left.

On the way home in the car, my wife asked if i needed any help with the task I had before me. I smiled sardonically at her and thanked her for the offer. There are just some things a man has to do by himself.

The week passed slowly. I felt as if Friday would never come. When it finally did, I was not ready. As we prepared to leave I got my little jar and put it inside a paper bag. I put that bag inside another and that bag inside one more, and then I stuffed the bag in my coat pocket. I was as ready as I would ever be. As we walked into the office, I shuffled over to the receptionist’s desk, head low as if I were shamed, and put the bag on the desk.

"What is this?" She asked, without raising her head.

Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what "this" was. She just wanted me to say it. All doctor’s receptionists are sadistic.

"It's a specimen." I mumbled.

"What did you say?" She asked, leaning closer, this time raising her head enough to see my face.

"A specimen!" I said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, why didn't you say so?" She opened first one bag then another, and then another before seeing the jar. "Your name?" She asked.

"Stuteville." I whispered. She wrote the name Statesville down on a label and stuck it to the jar.

"Have a seat, and the doctor will be right with you.” Turning around, she yelled at the nurse down the hall. "I have a specimen for Studebaker." Everyone in the waiting room looked up and I nodded hello. I buried my head in my coat, and groped my way to where my wife was sitting.
Sitting in the waiting room, I watched as an older man, probably fiftyish, went up to the office desk and spoke to the receptionist.

My wife, noticing the man, nudged me and pointed to him.
"You should be more like him. He isn't ashamed to be here."

"He doesn't have to. Did you see the size of HIS jar?" I asked.

"Silly, that isn't what I mean. There is a man nearly fifty and he wants to have children. He isn't ashamed. He just walked in and gave the lady his jar and that was that. It's just like a business transaction."

I didn't agree with her. There is just some¬thing about being under thirty and thinking that it is your fault you don't have children. I looked up just in time to see the older man approaching the empty seat beside me; Lucky me.

"Hi," He said quietly. I nodded. He settled himself in and sat beside me. "Don't you just hate sitting in these waiting rooms? All these men, and knowing that 99% of them have Problems. It's sort of sad, don't you think?" I just looked and nodded ever so slightly. I didn't want to give away my secret. The old man continued.

"Me, on the other hand, If I could help them I would. Lord knows a man with six kids must be doing something right. If it weren't for that stupid doctor, I would only have five." I must have looked lost. On seeing my expression, the man elaborated.

"You see, two years ago the doctor gave me a vasectomy. Next week, my youngest daughter will celebrate her first birthday. I Plan on suing the pants off him.

"What are you here for?" He asked.

"Checkup." I lied. As fate would have it, the nurse called my name at that moment. I got up and went into the hallway on the other side of the door. Following the nurse down the hall, we stopped at a large microscope where the doctor was looking at something. He looked up.

"Would you like to see?" He asked. "This is your sperm." I looked in the microscope. I saw thousands of tiny creatures swimming all around. I was unimpressed. We followed the doctor into his office.

"I have good news. I think we can help you." He said as he circled the desk and sat down. He put his elbows on the desk and interlocked his fingers. Resting his chin on his fingers he looked at us as if he were forming a question in his mind. After a long silence, he spoke. "There is nothing physically wrong with you."

"Then what is the problem?" I asked.

"I'll have to ask you a few more questions, but I am reasonably sure of the problem. What kind of undergarments do you wear?"

"Beg pardon?" I asked.

"What kind of underthings..pants do you wear? Are they jockey shorts or boxer?"

"Jockey shorts. Look, I don't see what this has to do with my problem."

"You will understand in time but you must have patience. I want you to start wearing boxer shorts. Jockey shorts tend to cause heat and moisture. This will cause the sperm to die.

"Also you and your wife are trying too hard. You must not do this. Every other day when your wife is ovulating should be plenty."

"I just don't understand how this will help us." I said, not that I wasn’t glad for the respite. I was confused that it could take so much time and money and that the answer would be so simple. Surely there had to be another reason.
"Sir, you must believe me when I tell you. It is not so complicated. Trust me and soon you will be able to hold that little baby that you want so much." He stood up as if he were through.
As difficult as it was to believe, we were willing to try anything. My wife went out and bought me three dozen pairs of boxer shorts. Though, I felt a little strange with my undershorts around my knees, it was a small price to pay in order to become a parent.
As unbelieving as I was at the start, you can imagine how astounded I was when my wife called and told me the good news. Almost one month to the day from our last visit with the doctor. I received a call from my wife at work. After five years we were finally going to have a child.
As I look back now, I cannot begin to understand how things seem to work out. People who want no children seem to be able to have more than they can handle and people who really want children have the hardest time. It just doesn't seem fair.

Our daughter will be twenty-two this year and one thing is certain. Seeing as we had to wait so long, we seemed to have really enjoyed our daughter’s presence more than if we had had no problems.