Part 13 – The Good and the Better News

Once we had the good news, we had to decide how long to wait before we started telling people. I’ve heard/read you should wait until the first trimester is over before telling friends and family. We waited approximately five minutes. We immediately began our “pregnancy road-show” by visiting family and calling friends. All phone batteries were dead before the clock hit 10pm.

My best week ever breaks down like this:

• Christi’s preggo – check
• Thanksgiving dinner – check
• Cowboys win – check
• My nephew’s wedding – check
• Aggies beat t.u. – WHOOP!

I also learned another thing that weekend; Christi’s hormones were kicking in. Christi had to opt out of the 5th annual Massey family Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot… for obvious reasons. We waited with the kids at the finish line. Not long after the first man finished the race, the first woman came cruising towards the finish line. She was only 10 feet from the finish line when another woman in a full sprint passed her to be the first woman across the line. Christi was so sad for the 2nd place finisher, she cried. I’m not kidding. She cried for a woman she never met, or even saw before. I don’t deal well with a crying woman. It confuses me… I usually end up just buying them shiny things to make them stop. I am in for a long, long nine months.

The next major milestone was a visit to Dr. Vaughn’s office for a sonogram. The goal was to make sure the baby was doing well. Christi and I met in the parking lot of the office. I was on time and in the right place… I’m getting good at this stuff. After a short wait, we were called back to the room. Dr. Vaughn met us with good news. Christi’s hormone levels looked good and things were progressing nicely. Next was the sonogram.

A fuzzy image on the monitor showed a nickel size baby inside Christi. Dr. Vaughn held for a moment to show a tiny blinking dot… the baby’s heart! He even let us listen. A twist of the wrist, a new image on the screen, and these words in super slow motion from the good doctor:

“Theeerrrreeee’s baaaabbbby nuummmbbbber twoooooo.”

What?!?! Are you kidding? Twins.

Wow! They aren’t identical twins since they came from two different embryos, but there were definitely two of them. We saw two little heads, heard two heartbeats. We always wanted at least two kids. Now we would knock them both out with one shot. Nice.

On to 14

Part 12 – Try… Try… Again

It’s Friday morning – 8am. I barely slept in anticipation of our embryo transfer. Christi and I were anxious and ready to have a shot at parenthood. The process was pretty much the same as the last time. Christi was wheeled into the freezing room, strapped in, and the embryos were turkey-basted into oven.

The following week was hectic to say the least. I was a groomsman in Daryl’s wedding in San Antonio on Saturday. Christi, on embryo house-arrest, could not attend. Tracey, a life saver, volunteered to come over and occupy Christi with movies and girl stuff.

That night, at the wedding, I learned what it means to have true friends. I can’t count the number of friends that prayed for us, sent us their good thoughts and truly wanted us to have a baby. These are the same people that, five years ago, were more concerned with killing gallons of booze before dawn and tagging the passed out with permanent marker… times have changed. Ironically, I had one drink at the wedding and drove home to Austin that night to be with Christi.

The next ten days were stressful. Christi made a huge mistake three days before we were to get the official results… she took a home pregnancy test. The pee-test came back negative which seemed to put us both into a tailspin for the long weekend. Christi’s work had a happy hour for a co-worker on Friday. With the negative home pregnancy test, she seriously considered drinking that night. There was no way she was pregnant so she might as well enjoy the evening. She only drank water that night.

That Sunday morning we drove to the lab for the official blood test. We would have to wait another five hours for the results. We spent most of the day with my sister and her family to keep our minds off the looming bad news. After the noon hour crept towards us, we decided to go home and wait for the results at 1:30pm.

The wait was agonizing. We decided to page the nurse early to “get it over with”. I was looking up the phone number when the phone rang. The caller ID showed Dr. Vaughn’s number. Dr. Vaughn wasn’t supposed to call us… this is bad… real bad. I’m sure he was saving the nurse from delivering more bad new. Christi ran to my side to allow me to listen to the result. I didn’t want to hear. I heard three words… I will never forget those three words…

“You’re Pregnant Girl!”

Imagine shaking a Champaign bottle for 2 years and then finally uncorking it. That’s what the moment felt like. All the sadness, anxiousness, anger, depression flowed out and was replaced by one feeling… YES!

Lucky Number 13

Part 11 - Barging In

Things started setting down after a couple months and Christi and I decided it was time to try again. Christi scheduled a visit with Dr. Vaughn and added it to my calendar. Because I am an idiot, I can’t maintain my own calendar. Otherwise… I would set at home watching the Cartoon Channel or Hogan’s Heroes all day. I'm not kidding... I’m lucky I make it to work each day.

Our visit was scheduled for 10:15am on November 3rd. I was supposed to meet Christi at the doctor’s office at 10am. I left at 9:45am headed toward Dr. Vaughn’s office (15 minutes gave me plenty of time to get there). At 10am, I was one mile from my office and I could not figure out how to get on the new toll way… I hate being late. After going the wrong way for 5 miles to find the entrance ramp, I finally made it to the doctor’s office. It was now 10:30am and I was panicked. My spider-sense said Christi was pissed. When the elevator arrived on the second floor, I immediately saw a nurse. In a rush, I explained that I was late and that I needed to find my wife. She led me through the hallway reading each chart in the little file outside the door. When she found Christi’s chart she knocked lightly. I didn’t let her finish knocking before I burst into the room.

See… in Dr. Vaughn’s office… they put the patient’s chart on the door before the previous patient in the room leaves. Yes… I charged right in on some poor woman. Luckily the curtain was drawn and Dr. Vaughn managed pull his head out from under the hood long enough to see me and shout: “NOT YOUR WIFE, NOT YOUR WIFE, NOT YOUR WIFE.” The nurse yanked me out of the room, apologized, and walked me to the waiting room where Christi was calmly reading a magazine. My heart was beating so fast, my face was red, and I was out of breath. I fully accept the definition of Idiot.

After meeting with Dr. Vaughn we learned several things:

1. We do the embryo transfer in one week
2. Christi would re-start her shots in two days
3. Only 75% of the embryos makes it out of the freeze
4. Always knock before entering

Part 12 - Try... Try... Again

Part 10 – Down Time

That following Sunday morning, after we heard the bad news, Christi and I did not speak much. It seemed like not talking about our emotions would keep them at bay for just a little longer. Dr. Vaughn called shortly after lunch. The call was exactly what we needed. He expressed his concern for us and reminded us that we had four frozen embryos ready when we were ready. Now I know why we left the Houston fertility clinic. We received a personal phone call from the head of the clinic… on a Sunday... and he was genuinely concerned about us. Whether this is something he does for all of his patients or we developed a special bond with Dr. Vaughn… I don’t know. I would hope that every one of his patients experience the same commitment we did.

We had four embryos in the ice-box waiting for a chance to be our children. Dr. Vaughn recommended we get started right away. The initial doctor visit showed we were ready. Christi scheduled an appointment with the hospital to do the transfer. We were ready to let another try pull us out of this rut. Unfortunately, life doesn’t follow our schedule.

Our first scheduled redo was interrupted when Christi came down with a horrible toothache. After a visit with the dentist it was determined that she would need a root canal. Painkillers and antibiotices that come along with a root canal aren't exactly safe for the baby; we would have to wait another month. Another month of living with the thought that this may never work for us.

The following month continued to suck the life and momentum out of our parenthood. The sonogram showed that Christi's uterus wasn't ready. The bad news… we would have to wait another month.

The next month put this entire process in perspective for the both of us. Before we got a chance to schedule our next transfer appointment, we were awoken by a phone call from Christi’s mom. Christi’s grandpa, Sam, had been rushed to the emergency room and things didn’t look good. Sam had been in and out of the hospital for most of the summer. We knew his health was deteriorating but no matter how much you prepare mentally, you are never prepared for death. Christi spent the last week of Sam’s life by his side. She rarely ate and never slept because she was not going to let him die alone. This defines my wife. One moment she’s screaming like a mad woman while leaping over four rows of bleachers at the baseball game because a bug flew within 12 feet of her head… the next she is awake for four consecutive nights making sure her grandfather is comfortable. Christi has more integrity than anyone I have ever met... that's what makes a great mother.

Depression and sleep deprivation don’t improve the odds of making babies… so without question a baby would have to wait. Like I said, life doesn’t follow our schedule.

On to Part 11... Will this ever end?

Part 9 - News Day

Thanks Christi for writing the last blog. Daniel’s back with a brand new edition, hopefully addition.

The following seven days were agonizing. Christi was on house-arrest and we were forced to play a demented waiting game. The next step was to wait ten days and take a blood test. In the meantime, we discussed every nuance of Christi’s bodily functions. Gas… is gas bad? What about heartburn… is that a good sign? Every time Christi burped, I wanted to catch it in a zip-lock bag and take it to the lab for analysis.

As I muddled through the week, I kept thinking that Dr. Vaughn had put the best two embryos in Christi. Chance… how strange a word. I kept focusing my attention on the statistics of In Vitro Fertilization. The chance of getting pregnant was all over the place… 40%, 60%, 50%. Each website contradicted the last.

I kept making the mental adjustments to the numbers:

• We are both under the age of 40, that’s worth an extra 10% right?
• Christi is physically fit, that’s another 5% right?
• She followed every doctor order; give her 3% for good behavior.

Mentally, it’s such a strange situation. Christi and I were both believers in thinking positively… but… we wanted to have realistic expectations so our rebound wouldn’t be horrible if it didn’t work.

We arrived at the lab on Saturday at around 7am. As I looked around the waiting room it was apparent that these were not people hoping to find out that they would soon be parents. These visitors looked depressed, tired, almost run over by life. My thoughts circled around AIDS and pregnant teens. I felt very selfish.

After a short wait, Christi was escorted to the back to draw blood and returned within 10 minutes. For the rest of the day we tried to keep ourselves busy until 3pm – when the results would be ready. Looking back, I don’t even remember what we did all day. At exactly 3:00pm, Christi called the nurse who answered but did not have our test results yet.

We were headed home from a long day when the nurse called Christi’s cell. Christi put the phone on speaker so we could both hear. (My heart is pounding, right now just, from thinking about that moment.) The first two words came out of that little phone like a bullet through both of our hearts, “I’m Sorry…” That’s all I heard. My ears turned off because the voice in my head was screaming. WHAT?!?! WHY? NO! IT’S NOT RIGHT. IT’S NOT FAIR! I wanted to cry. I tried to cry but even that seemed like it took too much effort.

Christi very patiently and politely thanked the nurse for calling us back and we drove home in silence. The rest of the weekend was wickedly quiet.

Just the two of us.

Keep reading. It's got to get better ;-)

Part 8 - Embryo Transfer Day

Note: This is Christi writing this...Daniel is not qualified to write Part 8 of this saga. First, he was barely involved; and second, he was not the one that had to endure the embarrassment you are about to witness.

Here we go, please keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times… it’s for your own protection.

The eggs and sperm were combined and we were informed we had 6 really good looking embryos. Actually, the doctors said they had a hard time picking the best two because they all looked so great! It was time to put the best two in the oven (a process called The Embryo Transfer). I warn you now… The Embryo Transfer has to be the worst thing I have ever been through. No pain but a TERRIBLE experience…

It started out much like the egg extraction although this time I didn’t have an IV, so no needles (so far…so good). The nurse gave me a Valium to help me relax (even better). Then I put on my PJs and waited in bed. This time Daniel was going to get to join me in the surgical room and was given a complete surgical outfit. I don’t know how Daniel even manages to dress himself in the morning. He started by putting the gown on backwards (thank goodness he kept his jeans on) and he put the shoe cover on his head. It took me a while to straighten Corky out but we did it quickly before the doctors arrived.

When they were ready for me, the nurse walked us into to the operating room with about nine doctors and nurses standing around the room. It was nothing short of a freezer in there. I’m positive I could see my breath. I would much rather have been put to sleep than be awake through what happened next. The table was solid steel and covered by a sheet. I lay down on the table; they separated my legs, put them in stirrups, and STRAPPED THEM IN. Why in the hell did my legs need to be strapped in? Were they afraid I would get up and leave, jump, kick them? I really wish I weren’t wearing earrings because my knees were getting all scratched up from the backs of my ear. Oh, it gets much worse…Then they moved my gown up so my hoo-ha was exposed and then they turned the 3’ X 3’ (that’s feet not inches) light towards me so that ALL NINE people in the room could get a good, clear look at my private parts! You ever hold a flashlight against your hand in the dark and it looks like your fingers glow? That light was so bright my ears were doing the same thing.

The doctor asked us questions to make sure we were who they thought we were, we knew what was getting ready to happen, and we still wanted to do this. We gave the okay, although the thought did run through my mind to run away and regain my dignity. The doctor called the lab and told them we were ready; so I was thinking this was getting ready to be over soon, OH NO. We had to wait and wait and WAit and WAIt and WAIT, I swear my thingy was spotlighted for 30 minutes before the lab “team” arrived. You head me… TEAM. I turned to Daniel to tell him how embarrassed I was and with a calm smile he said “nobody is looking”. Was he kidding? I could see those 24 eyes ALL looking at me and they weren’t looking at my eyes. The embryologist came in with our “soon-to-be” babies in a syringe with a long tube. More questions to verify everything and then ALL TWENTY-FOUR eyes moved in, in unison... for a closer look!!!! The doctor moved very slow as he explained each step. Through the sonogram monitor we could see the insertion of the tiny tube into my uterus. Daniel was fascinated, I was not.

After the embryos were inserted we were told to sit and relax in the freezing room for a few minutes in hopes the embryos would start to move to their new home. The doctors left for a few minutes and returned with a new bed. Dr Vaughn was very specific, “We will move you, don’t help, don’t move a muscle.” They moved me to the new bed by slowly moving up the sheet with me in it. We were moved to a room and told to relax for the next hour or so.

The next step was to go home and do as little as possible for the next three days. The goal was to have the embryo attached to the uterus wall. Things look great!

Number 9... Number 9... Number 9... Number 9... Number 9...

Part 7 - Extraction Day

I have a quick question that I would like to pose to my readers before I begin my blog: Do you weigh more after you fart? I mean… hot air rises. These are the things I think about all day long.

Now back to our feature presentation…

After a few appointments to check on the progress of the eggs, we were given some exciting news. “We extract the eggs tomorrow”, said Dr. Vaughn. My heart was racing; this was HUGE news. We were scheduled for 9am the next morning. That night, to stimulate the eggs, I had to give Christi a shot of HSG. This shot was to be given at exactly the right time “and not 1 minute later”, according to doctor’s orders. Damn, I’m late to work every day and they expect me to do something I hate doing… on time? Long story short, the shot was on time and we were ready for the extraction.

The extraction is made up of four main steps:

1. The eggs are taken from Christi
2. I provide the sperm
3. Using the tiniest of tweezers, inject the sperm into the egg
4. Hope like hell it works

That night neither of us slept a bit. There were so many questions that were floating in my brain all night long:

• What if the eggs are too big… or too small?
• What if my “swimmers” weren’t good enough?
• Would I have stage-fright right before the big dance?
• What if that little drawer they keep the porn in at the hospital was empty?

We were at the hospital early that morning. The nurse escorted us to our room and instructed Christi to put on the required paper clothing. The embryologist came to the room and escorted me to my little love nest at the same time Christi was wheeled into surgery. Christi returned from surgery 30 minutes after I had returned from taking care of business. Based on my calculations, her surgery took 31.5 minutes (I am proving to perform well under pressure).

Christi on anesthesia isn’t much different from Christi on Jack Daniels. She asks the same questions repeatedly and rubs her face a lot. In addition, Christi didn’t hide her face when the camera came out. She took photos of the doctor, hospital bed, windows, IV stand, carpet, and herself without makeup. Ok, I am getting worried now.

Dr. Vaughn informed us that we had 23 well formed eggs and that my little guys looked great. That was awesome news. Here’s the dialog that ensued afterward:

Christi: How many eggs did we have?
Daniel: Twenty-three, baby you did wonderful
Christi: That’s awesome. How many eggs did we have?
Daniel: Twenty-three, that’s great news.
Christi: Yes, but how many eggs did they get?
Daniel: Twenty-three. I’m so proud.
Christi: How many eggs did they get…?
Daniel: Twenty-three
Christi: Can I have some ice cream?

I’ll stop there but this went on for a while. The next step was to wait two days to see how many fertilized. We were hoping for all twenty-three but would be happy if just one made it through. The embryologist takes over from here. They watch the fertilized eggs constantly and make sure the cells start to split. All we need is one… come on baby!

On to Part 8

Part 6 - Slow Pain!

Throughout the next few weeks we visit the doctor to check on Christi’s eggs. You heard me… eggs… plural. The medication forces Christi’s ovaries to produce eggs… a lot of eggs. Within a couple weeks Christi has over 20 eggs in her basket.

Thus far, Christi administered her own shots. Luckily for me, I did not need to be involved but that was changing. We attended the usual doctor’s appointment expecting the usual, “things look good”. Instead, I got a surprise, “things look good and start the Progesterone shots tonight”. WHAT?!?! Tonight? I need time to prepare, it’s too soon. I expected some time to practice on oranges or the dog or something. I need more time!

That drive home seemed to take forever. When I got home... I realized it wasn’t long enough. We decided to do the shot shortly after dinner. My fork was shaking so badly, I nearly lost an eye. Think Daniel, think. What were the instructions the nurse gave you?

1. Spread out the skin
2. Stick fast
3. Pull the plunger out and look for blood to make sure you didn’t hit a vein... YUK
4. Push the plunger in slowly

Christi prepares the shot and wields the needle like a Samurai warrior in front of my face. I consider buying protective goggles for next time.

She leans over the bed and exposes the part of her hip where the nurse drew the bulls-eye in Magic Marker. Yes, we wanted to make sure we hit the right spot so the nurse did a little “butt art”. I, shaking like Robin Williams at rehab, get ready to move in for the kill.

In my nervousness, I forget step 2. Instead of sticking fast… I slowly push the needle into the butt. Amongst Christi’s eardrum shattering screams I can feel the needle passing through each layer of skin and muscle. I push in the plunger and pull out the needle to see Christi glaring over her shoulder. Flames shooting from her eye sockets as she screams… YOU HAVE TO GO FAST!

I take a few punches to the arm from tiny fists that normally hurt. This time… they did not hurt because I knew I had made it through the process without passing out. YEAH ME!

NEXT! Part 7

Part 5 - The Schedule

One of the most important things you get as part of the IVF process is "The Schedule". The Schedule will guide us through the process from beginning to pregnancy and covers roughly six weeks and is extremely detailed. To get our schedule, we met with Leann a nurse in Dr. Vaughn's office. It was Leann's job to give us an overview of the entire process. This was very challenging for Leann since Christi and I dont do well with "overviews". We need to understand the entire process and commit it to memory before we can move forward. Leann was very patient with us and the rapid fire of questions we threw at her.

She walked us through the complex process that included several drugs, including but not limited to:

• Aspirin
• Valium
• Estrogen
• Gonal F
• Lupron
• Subcutaneous injections
• Inter-muscular injections
• HSG
• MSG
• ESPN
  

I was assigned the duties of shot-giver. This was especially nerve racking since I have been know to pass out (a much more masculine term than faint) at the sight of blood and/or needles. I need all the masculinity I can get at this point. I made it through the instructions without passing out - a good start!

We signed a mountain of paper work and left extremely confused, well, I was confused. Christi committed the entire process to memory immediately. See... Christi has an amazing ability to store information on a file in memory. This little file was marked "Fertility Drugs" and stored on her brain's desktop for quick access should she need to correct me or a nurse. To unlock this file Christi uses the magic words "No, you said..." Its like open-sesame on estrogen.

Like most men, I store ridiculous files on my brains desktop:

• All the words to the theme song from the 80s TV show "The Fall Guy"
• Every line from the following movies: Caddyshack, Anchorman, Friday, and Vacation
• Stitches on a baseball: 108
• Ted Williams career batting average: 344
  

Three days later a box (nay crate) the size of a Volkswagen bus appeared via UPS. In the box came enough drugs to supply Kate Moss for the remainder of her modeling career. The first step was to administer a single shot of Lupron each morning. This shot was a tiny needle less than a half inch long inserted into her stomach. Christi was nervous for the first shot but after that, it was easy. Like Barry Bonds, each morning and night Christi injected herself with hormones. We knew the date was looming when I would have to take over the shot responsibilities.

On to Slow Pain

Part 4 - Dr. Dipshitz

Long story short, Christi and I decided to take advantage of technology. We set up an appointment with Houston IVF. IVF (In Vitro Fertilization) in the process of extracting the eggs and mixing it with the sperm and letting the magic happen. The doctors in Houston referred me to a Urologist that specializes in fertility issues.

My first visit with Dr. Larry Lipshultz was... um... eventful. For three hours I felt like an animal in a small cage and the doctors were like ornery 5 year olds with long sticks. I just kept getting poked and no one was paying attention to spank the little shits. Ok, so they werent sticks... they were the huge sonogram wands and they hurt worse. This story ends with me in the shower doing my best impression of that poor son-of-a-bitch from The Crying Game.

Two weeks later Christi returns to Dr Lipshultzs office with me - for protection. We expect to get news about how he will fix things but instead we waited 4 hours to hear Dr. Dipshitz wants more testing. Not your normal blood and urine tests. These were Medieval tests that should not be performed on prisoners. At that moment, I started hearing voices and those voices were not happy. I ran out of the office and left nothing but the sound of a bullet ricocheting and a little cloud of smoke like the Roadrunner.

Christi and I decided it was time to seek a second opinion. We headed to a local IFV expert in Austin, Dr. Vaughn. Dr. Vaughn - rocks. He assured us that we could just move directly to IVF. In addition, he was extremely personable and did an awesome job of setting our expectations. Next stop, a little light testing and a whole lotta drugs.

Not done yet... Part 5 - The Schedule

Part 3 - Re-Wired

I was referred to a Urologist in Austin and made an appointment. I showed up in the doctors office a little early for my appointment two weeks later. I was a little uncomfortable in the waiting room as I was the only patient under that age of 85. I've decided that a Urologist has the worst job in the world.

Tangent: Dirty Jobs from the Discover Channel should really consider an episode visiting a Urologist.

Anyway, I am called back and asked to pee in a cup. I do and am directed to a well decorated office full of Aggie paraphernalia - must be a cool guy. The doctor joins me after a few minutes and asks quite a few questions about our sex life. After the Inquisition he invites me back to an exam room and asks me to drop my pants. I oblige and before I can say "its freezing in here" he's pulling on my potatoes like he's milking a cow. I make the joke "Shouldn't you buy me dinner first". His response is limited to a glare that assures me he hears this joke daily.

Long story short...everything seems ok... not for the lack of looking I assure you... but I need a sonogram to look for a varicocele. A varicocele is a common problem that causes limited blood flow in the testicles.

I find myself in a dark room in two weeks with a guy greasing up my cojones and looking at a sonogram monitor. We spend an extremely long 7.532 minutes in the dark room and don't once make eye contact. I opt not to make my "buy me dinner" joke as its not even funny to me now. I return to work an hour later with a pair of swishy nads feeling like a cheap whore on a walk of shame.

The results return and I find out I need surgery to re-wire the blood flow to the old stones. The decision to go ahead with the surgery was an easy one. A baby is more important that a couple weeks of pain. To make it easier I find out the incision will be just below my waistline and not on my actual eggs... SCORE!

A month later the surgery goes well and the waiting game starts to determine if it worked. See, sperm that is in the shoot today was created 70 days ago so to determine how things are we gotta wait.

My first test took place around 80 days later the news wasnt great. I expected a huge jump in horsepower and got little more than a hop. At this point, the process is starting to get really frustrating. But the good news is that I can now go into a doctors office and rub out a sample in no time. If pressed I bet I could get one off between floors in an elevator. I got a new skill. I really need to update my resume with this one.

Like butter... you are on a roll: Part 4 - Dr. DipShitz

Part 2 - On Your Mark!

If you haven't read the blog Planned Parenthood yet... you need to. It will set up this rant... um... story.

When we last left our hero, he needed to get his swimmers checked out. The first step in getting my potency test was to provide a sample to Christi's doctors lab - easy enough. Christi came home with a cup in a plastic bag and asked me to fill-er-up. No problem, Ive been practicing for this day since I was 13 years old and could get her a sample in 7.124 minutes.

The next morning, I confidently took the cup to the bathroom and started the process. Going well... going well... here we go... CRAP!... I missed. Well not all of it, just some. Oh well, that shouldn't be a problem. Well just drop the rest off at the lab and wait for the results.

That afternoon we got a call from the lab. The preliminary result said that things didn't look good and they asked if I had gotten everything in the cup. Come to find out (Sorry, still giggling after that one), sperm work much like runners in a race. All the fast guys get to move to the starting line and are the first off the blocks. This means I wasted a few million of my best guys. I will need to try again.

My aim was much better on the second try. I got it all and was eager to hear about my outstanding potency. I was almost expecting a nurse to call and say that they never got to complete the test because my guys ate through the cup and are running around the UT campus checking out the girls. No luck, things we bad. It appears as though "my team" was a little lazy. They weren't moving around a whole lot througout the day.

I am so mad at my mom for yelling about me being lazy throughout my lifetime. It's not my fault, it's genetic. The laziness runs right down to the core of my genes. I am owed an apology.

Regardless, we got to get this fixed and it was time to find a specialist. A urologist to be exact.

Keeping going.... It just got interesting: Re-Wired

Part 1 - Planned Parenthood

My wife (played by Christi Massey) and I function best when we have a plan. Tasks, a schedule, major milestones, and risk assessments are important to our happiness. Being the consummate planners, we always hit our milestones; got married... bought a house... purchased a couple animals we define as pets... all on schedule. Although, the last two years have NOT been what we would call..."Planned".

In early 2005, Christi and I decided it was time to procreate. We wanted to release into this world a child consisting of our outstanding genes that include a bald head and an unnatural addiction to sports and stupid trivia (mine) and a distaste for all things "creamy" (hers). Christi may have other issues but for my own well being, I will limit them at being a picky eater.

Much to my initial pleasure, the process of creating a baby involved doing stuff I enjoyed and considered myself... um... good at. Mostly because that's all I thought about from the age of 13. Best of all, I got a free pass without the "warming up the oven" part that every man must endure. We tried haphazardly for about 3 days and decided to Get Serious. This included several things that I was not prepared for.

Sex was no longer a past time; we were in the manufacturing business - we were manufacturing babies. There is only a small window in which a woman gets pregnant each month. We needed to know when that exact time was each month, therefore, unless the biological clock dictated, we didn't waste anything by practicing. This included a prohibition on me flying solo during my free time.

Its very hard and expensive to tell time on a biological clock. We purchased several items which can only be described as egg timers. These egg timers included but were not limited to:

• Thermometers made of Basil (or a similar spice)
• A Clear Blue Easy Machine
• Charts
• Graphs
• Calendars
• And log books

Much like our dog on a long walk, Christi was peeing on everything in sight. All designed to dictate when the best time to conceive would be (statistically).

We tried this tactic for about six months and decided to seek professional advice. Christi started by going to her doctor for a check-up. Luckily, her plumbing was in good shape. Unluckily, I had to get checked out. Then things got weird.

Like that? Keep reading: Part 2 - On Your Mark!

Same Great Taste… Half the Calories

I feel that everyone has the capacity to write one really good book – I am no exception. With my short attention span and general lethargy, I opted to keep a journal. Since the word “journal” isn’t cool and “blog” is the new, new thing… I am writing a blog.

The title for my blog *Batteries Included originated from Abby Clement. If you know me, you know I use prosthetic legs (made out of metal and brawn). Abby, a very precocious 3 year old and daughter of a close friend, saw my legs and mentioned that they were cool because “they have batteries”. Not exactly true but it did stick with me.

I started my blog on MySpace in July and my readership reached an astounding 10 people. With that kind of traffic, I owe it to my readers to provide a more respectable reading experience. I can’t ask my potential following of ten’s of people to sign up for MySpace where they may be stalked by sexual predators. Therefore, I’ve moved my blog here to BlogSpot.

My Mission Statement:

My mission as Daniel Massey is to maintain an unhealthy knowledge of sports, pop-culture, and libation. With my penchant for rap music, bad television, and fantasy football, I strive to be unique without actually being unique. See, being unique takes effort and my purpose as Daniel Massey is to do anything to keep from doing anything.

My foray into blogging revolved around my experiences propagating my seed. In other words, my wife (Christi) and I are going through fertility problems. As of today, I am on part 5 in a 231 part series that chronicles our experiences, through my eyes.

Begin by reading Part 1 – Planned Parenthood.

Enjoy!

-Daniel Massey Esq.