So it's been an interesting month and a half since I last updated all my loving readers on the state of things in my life; and I'll warn you all now, this may be my longest blog yet. As you all know, I started hormone replacement therapy on April 26th. That consisted of 2mg a day of Estradiol (aka Estrogen) and 50mg twice a day of Spironolactone which is used to reduce the body's testosterone creation. I felt great, and I know some of the feeling was likely mental because in only a little over a month, the likelihood of it having a major effect on my body is very slim.
Then on June 4, something really unexpected happened to me. I was at work that morning, doing my normal daily routine, when a semi-regular customer of ours came in with her 3 year old daughter. I was working the lobby and greeting customers, so I was in the perfect place within the bank to watch as this little girl explored the area a little, which she usually does when she comes in with her mom. But there was one strange difference on this occasion; as I watched this adorable little girl, I felt myself getting emotional. At first I couldn’t quite put a reason to it, but I suddenly started to feel my eyes well up and I quickly excused myself from my position and retreated to the bathroom just as the waterworks really began to come.
I stood there in the bathroom, not quite sure what the hell was causing this sudden rise in emotion when it hit my like a lightning strike... I wanted a baby. Now, I've wanted to be a parent for the better part of my adulthood, and my wife and I had talked about it since before we were even married. It was somewhere around May of 2015 when we last used any sort of protection in the bedroom, not so much actively trying to get pregnant, but more so not trying to not get pregnant.
By early 2016, we visited a gynecologist who did some standard tests and told us that there seemed to be no reason that my wife could not get pregnant, but of course, this could not be considered definitive without potentially expensive further testing. We continued along our path, and even started taking a Pre-Conception Vitamin pack that included a Pre-Natal vitamin for her, and a vitamin that was supposed to promote healthy sperm for me. After several months of continued failure, I visited a urologist who sent me for bloodwork and suggested a semen analysis. The bloodwork showed a very low testosterone level, but I never went for the second test.
I was nervous; Kerri and I discussed the possibilities, and the potential delay that it would have on my starting hormones, something with my readers know I was dead set on starting for my birthday this year. My biggest fear was that the doctor would tell us that the only way in which we could get pregnant was if I started taking testosterone supplements. Something I knew deep down that I could not do to myself. So I pretty much closed the door on us having kids on our own and decided that if we were going to be parents, it would be through adoption.
So now here I was, a little over 5 weeks into my transition and feeling totally lost on where I was and what I should do. I washed my face quickly and left the bathroom, but my mind was spinning like never before. That afternoon on lunch, I started searching the internet about fertility specialists, knowing full well that such doctors can be ridiculously expensive and usually not covered by insurance, but I had to at least do some research. I found a practice not far away, where one of the primary doctors was responsible for one of the first successful in-vitro pregnancies. I read all about their programs, their doctors, and their financial assistance programs, because they posted that their primary belief is nobody should go bankrupt trying to have a family (why don’t more doctors believe in the patients wallets before their own.)
Next, I decided to look into my benefits package; I wrote a message to the member services department for Aetna asking about such coverage and was told that 1) this practice participated with my benefits, and 2) my coverage was pretty extensive. As I continued to read, I found out that standard testing that would check both of us for any issues with starting a family are fully covered and in addition, advanced testing and procedures are also covered up to $30,000 lifetime benefit.
I was ecstatic; here I was thinking that we could never afford these types of services only to find out that I had this amazing benefits package that would possibly cost me next to nothing out of pocket. That night, I arrived home and Kerri and I sat down for a conversation about this all. I had messaged her earlier in the day about what happened and she was eagerly awaiting my arrival so we could discuss it at length and in person. We were both incredibly emotional, here she thought I had not only closed the door on us having biological children, but locked that door up tight. Now here I was, as she described it “bursting through the door like the Kool-Aid Man.”
The next day I made the appointment and two weeks later, we were at the office for our first appointment. We were both equally nervous and excited, who knew what would happen next, but all of our hopes and dreams about a family were suddenly becoming more than just a far off fantasy. We met with the doctor, who made us both very comfortable, he was accepting of my gender identity, went over some details with us and laid out the expectations. We were into another room to both get bloodwork; Kerri had a standard scan to check that everything internally looked healthy, and then I was given a little plastic cup and led into a private room.
I felt so uncomfortable; the idea of doing something so private in such a facility was incredibly awkward. I could hear people walking past in the hall, and then two people decided to stop and have a full conversation right outside the door. Eventually, I did what I had to do, and that was that. We left the office that day feeling good and excited for the next steps.
A week later (today), we would return for Kerri to undergo a secondary scan that went into much greater detail and would tell us if everything inside was healthy , which thankfully it was, and then it came time for the doctor to give us any important results from the previous weeks tests… and it was here where my heart sunk. The doctor pulled up the report on his computer and very sympathetically told me that in my entire sample, there were only three sperm that could be found, and none of them could swim.
I almost burst into tears right then and there. Kerri was in the next room changing after her procedure and I could feel my legs almost turn to mush. How could I look her in the eyes and tell her that I was apparently infertile? Then the next thoughts came racing through my mind… was I always like that? Or did the 5 weeks of hormone therapy perform a mass genocide of my little swimmers?
Our appointment ended and we were recommended to schedule to see first a counselor and then the doctor again in order to go over everything and discuss our next steps. As the next few weeks come, we will have to discuss if there are ways in which we can still have a child that is biologically ours. Can something be done about my current lack of swimmers? Was it just a bad sample? Would a longer period of time off of hormones solve the problem? And what if it can never be remedied? Do we want to consider using a donor that would allow Kerri to become pregnant and have the child who isn’t genetically mine? Or do we just move on from all of this return to considering adoption as our only remaining option at parenthood?
So now I do something I have never done in my writing before… I will end this post with a big, dramatic… To Be Continued.
