I noticed recently when Vorny was injecting hormones into the small spring roll of fat on her belly, that my role in this IVF journey is a supporting one. Typically as an actor you crave the lead roles, but Vorny’s the one with the vagina and the ovaries. I’ve just got a sad looking penis and 2 slow sperms who think optimism is an ointment for sore eyes. Sure they might be dumber than a box of hair, but you love people/sperms for their flaws eh?
My IVF role is purely oral support - to boost Vorny’s morale and yell out cool soundbytes like, “Go darl!” and “Are those eggs free range?” I do feel very disappointed in myself that I haven’t researched the shite out of the fertility process like my diligent wife. I really want to father a child with her, so shouldn’t I be schooling myself like a Dux student on all the ‘ins and outs’ of the baby making process. Does this mean I'm a part-time supporter? Vorny’s almost got a PHD in Fertility by now with all the Googling she’s done on eggs and cysts. I’m still researching shark attacks and Seinfeld bloopers, which even now sounds like I should be banished to the naughty room to be slapped and tickled!
My major contribution will be semen collection. The first time I had a fertility test at the clinic, I didn’t master the lock on the door and an Indian gentlemen opened it to find my Avatar-like limbs straddling a sofa with a Woman’s Day mag. It wasn’t even embarrassing. I was too busy trying to aim my 2 sperms into the world’s smallest receptacle. I looked like a Great Dane straddling a Chihuahua. When I finally did 'release the hounds' into said thimble, I then realised I had to write my full name on the outside, MILLEN HORTON BAIRD. Unfortunately, the first R and the second O got smudged, which only left MILLEN HO T IN BAIRD.
Certainly not true, but I’ll take it.
I'll also take the hint and start fully supporting my wife. I'll hold up the Fertility mag and sing from the rooftops, "LET'S GO VORNY! LET'S GO!!"