Quincy should be finding out about his tests this week.
The more I think about it, the more I think I want him to have a low sperm count or something. I know that sounds bizarre, but hear me out.
He takes hot baths. Like, really hot baths. And I read that if a man spends a lot of time in a hot tub, or takes hot baths…he can get a low sperm count. I dunno, I guess the heat kills off the swimmers. If he has a low sperm count, then boom – all he has to do is stop it with the baths and in 6 months or so, all of our problems will be solved. It would be so nice to have such an easy solution.
If he *does* have a low count, I hope I don’t start playing the blame game. I know myself, and I know that I’ll have to work extra hard to not say “I told you so.” Because I’m a shitty, bitchy person at times. And we’ve spoken before about his baths and protecting his swimmers from excessive heat.
But if that’s it…man. I’ll do such a happy dance. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past or how many times he’s obliterated his naval fleet in super hot bath water, all that would matter is that we’d be parents soon. I did the whole ovulation kit thing. I got a spike. According to my doctor, that means it’s not me. As long as I’m ovulating, I should be okay. And I am. Which, doesn’t that have to mean that the problem is with the guy? With Quincy?
So, a low sperm count would be a good thing. It’s fixable. If I’m ovulating, and his sperm analysis comes back great…then where are we? We’re back to square one.
My Stork Got Lost 