Dr. Kagney met her pleading eyes and replied “Unfortunately, no. There are certain home treatments that he can do to just try and increase the odds he does have but there is no such readily available medical fix for this.”
Marissa looked as though she was going to cry as the doctor continued “..a couple of the most chosen options include adoption, and of course sperm donation.”
Marissa stiffened for some reason when she heard his last two words. “Sperm…donation?”
“Ah, yes. We have a couple fantastic sister clinics that provide disease free, healthy, viable sperm for couples such as yourself. You would have a procedure wherein medical staff would take that donated sperm and insert it into your uterus. ”
For some strange reason, hearing the doctor describe the procedure did something strange to me. Sitting right there in the doctor’s office, I could feel my cock stiffen up into the fabric of my pants. I embarrassingly changed the topic while trying to hide it. Marissa was mostly silent the rest of our visit with Dr. Kagney. I thanked him and took some pamphlets and referrals as we left. The entire trip home no words were spoken between Marissa and I.
And that’s pretty much where we left the discussion, neither one of us really wanting to bring it up. I was conflicted, I felt awful that I could not provide my end of the marital deal but I also wasn’t thrilled with the idea of another man’s sperm inside my wife. And yet, I think we both ruled out adoption completely.
The only conversation about the subject between Marissa and I was in researching home treatments and things that we could do to boost my “little swimmer guys”. She seemed to be holding out the little hope left for that route and was adamant I did everything I could. I started taking various vitamin supplements, I changed from briefs to boxers, and Marissa made me meals that were supposed to help as well.
I went along with all of it, mostly for her own benefit. The difference between a .01% chance and a .02% chance of success was almost insignificant. So I just let the topic go. Until one night, I was lounging on the couch watching the game and catching up on work emails on my laptop.
Marissa came home from grocery shopping and yelled at me, “Griffin! Get that laptop off your lap! I was reading an article today Brandon showed me about how the radiation from laptops can mess with your sperm count and..”
I cut her off right there. “Brandon..? You told Brandon about this? Why would you share our problem conceiving with him??”
“First of all, it’s not MY problem conceiving, it’s yours. And he saw it when he was in my classroom earlier trying to get some advice on one of his students.”
I’m sure he was. When Marissa and I went to the first teacher’s meeting (usually just a couple teachers and their spouses eating catered dinner, sitting in tiny desks, and having drinks on the school’s dime) in the summer before she started at the school, I had noticed one male teacher in particular eyeing her up. I was used to men checking her out when we went places and had gotten used to it. Brandon, however, seemed to always be in Marissa’s classroom when I visited her. I’m sure he was just waiting to get a chance to bend her over a desk and sample my wife.