First of all, let me tell you how much I love the idea of total strangers hearing stories about my junk. Secondly, I (like most men) don't know 'shit from Shinola' when it comes to this baby-making business. My lack of knowledge comes through when I attempt to keep my mom updated on our progress. Usually, Tricia gives me a dirty look, tells me I'm screwing it all up and leaves the room. I usually continue butchering our conception story to dear mom, Tricia meanwhile, corrects me from behind our closed bedroom door. Here's how it usually goes:
Me: Hi momWell it goes on like that until Tricia takes the phone away and I get back to watching the Yankee game.
Mom: Hi Steve (sometimes she calls me Robert - my brother's name. One time she called me Gizmo - that was our dog's name. One time she called me Jason, but I don't know who that is)
Me: We had a meeting with the doctor, and it looks like my mobility is...
Tricia (from the other room): Motility!
Me: Well we are going to try In vitro Fer
Tricia (still in the other room): In utero!
Me: In utero
It's not that I'm disinterested in the whole process, I really want to be a father more than anything in the world. And not for selfish reasons like having someone else to keep Tricia busy while I relax or watch football. Being a father would also keep my mom from bugging my brother and twin sister about making her a grandmother. She is more obsessed with Tricia becoming a mother than Tricia is about becoming a mother.
Tricia doesn't know that I posted this, she actually trusted me with her login information to edit her last post and I invited myself to post on her blog. I know, I know...just like a man...so this could be my last post, it's been fun ladies.
Like Tricia mentioned in the last post, we've got a date with a sterile cup tomorrow morning. Keep us in your prayers, because I'd love to tell people that our kid was conceived on Friday the 13th and we can name "Jason".