Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Nothing like making someone feel small. While I know my semen is good, I still feel like I’m being set up to fail a major test.
“Ben and Noah, we’ll have your blood drawn as well.”
“For what?” Ben asks.
“We need to run a battery of tests, mostly for diseases. We want to give the egg and sperm the best possible chance of survival.”
“I see.” Nothing like the implication you’re being deceitful. Peyton squeezes my hand again. I’m so thankful for her and her trust in me.
“Peyton and Elle, I’m going to schedule you for a practice embryo transfer,” she says. “We do this to figure out the depth of your uterus. This will also help determine which technique we’ll use for implantation. We’ll also test the lining of your uterine wall.”
“How do you do that?” Elle asks.
“We use a test called sonohysterography. It’s where fluid is sent through the cervix into the uterus using a thin plastic tube. The fluid helps make a more detailed ultrasound image of the uterine lining. Sometimes we can skip this step if the uterine test gives us everything we need to know.”
All of this is so my wife and I can have a child. Clinical, and not the way things are meant to be for anyone.
“Now, when it comes to sex,” the doctor sets the tablet aside. “Now that we have your sample, you don’t need to abstain from ejaculation. Moving forward, once your wives start the ovarian stimulations, we ask that you wear condoms. Your wife also might experience swollen ovaries, so listen to her if she says things are painful.”
I lean toward my wife and whisper, “Guess we better stop at the store.” It’s been five days and the longest we’ve gone without some form of sex since we’ve been together. Peyton smirks and says nothing. You better believe when I’m about to blow my load tonight, I’m going to yell, I’m ejaculating.
Damn, I hate this shit.
On the way home, we do, indeed stop at the local pharmacy and I buy not one, but two jumbo boxes of condoms. Peyton eyes me warily but says nothing. I can’t tell if she thinks I’m going overboard or if I’m not purchasing enough. Regardless, I carry the boxes to the self-checkout machine only to find it out of order. Dread creeps in as I walk to the counter. The lady behind the register reminds me of my Grandma Preston and I can’t help but feel judged. Much like the time when I was sixteen or seventeen and stopped for a three-count box of rubbers at the store before heading to the water tower. Without fail, the cashier then got on the intercom and asked for a price check. Talk about humiliation. I think they do that especially when teens are buying, to try to teach us a lesson. The only lesson it taught me was to either force Quinn to go buy them for me or drive over to Allenville, where hopefully no one recognized me as QB1 from Beaumont High or Liam Page’s son.
The woman behind the counter slowly scans the boxes. She has her technique down and never takes her eyes off me. I’m half tempted to tell Peyton to show her the rock on her finger, but I don’t. Let her think whatever. The fact is, I’m going home to fuck my wife and I’m going to enjoy it, even though I haven’t worn a rubber in . . . I don’t even remember. It wasn’t long after Peyton and I started dating that we did away with them. I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. Getting pregnant then didn’t matter to us.
It matters to us now.
I pay in cash. No need for her to be a football fan and realize I was in her store. Honestly, unless you see your favorite player without a helmet on or they are all over television doing commercials, people have no idea what we look like when we’re off the field. Granted, the cameras are on me, especially if I’m on the sidelines after a major fuck up. Unfortunately for me, I had a few of those this past season. I’d like to chalk it up to luck. It wasn’t. It was all stress. Peyton may have to go through the hard part, the testing, injections, and eventually carrying our child. Sure, all I had to do was put my shit into a cup and I’m good to go. I get to sit back, right?
Nope.
No one considers the emotional toll men go through when their wives find out they’re not pregnant. Again and again. We feel it too. We’re not just there to pump, dump, and run. No one thinks about the demand we have to perform to make sure we’re getting the job done.