William went to the specialist today. Apparently his shape thing isn't a problem. Because apparently he has so many little swimmers (a very large number of them) that having a few that are the wrong shape is no big deal. The doctor was completely unconcerned.
So I guess that's good. The only thing I'm "sad" about is that William and I were having a good time sharing the burden. Or I was enjoying not being the "problem". And I was also enjoying my very special treatment. William has been treating me like a princess. Which I love. Duh.
He promises to continue treating me like a princess. Swears that it wasn't because he felt bad. We will see. He bought a new TV to celebrate I think. He also showed me his A+ report card from the sperm analysis. Oh gosh. I now have a husband who knows how high his sperm count is. This could be dangerous.
We see my doctor again tomorrow. I'll report back then. Until then we will continue to happily enjoy the process of trying... and neither of us are afraid to admit that has been the best part. Although we will both admit that we have never been more in sync and felt closer than we have over the past couple of months.
I'm starting to feel calmer... that's a good thing.
Peyton
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