After I took my test yesterday I was told to "Walk it down the the half door and ring the bell." The man that came out saw my Dodgers lanyard and started talking baseball with me, how close the Dodgers-Cardinals series had been so far and my thoughts on the pitching lineup to finish the series. I continued to hold my bodily fluids in my hand, feeling the awkward tiny amount of warmness against the container and trying my best to ignore the fact that I could carry on a sports conversation with another guy with such ease, considering he knew what I just did and held in my hands the evidence of the act. He apologized about the delay and told me it might not be until early next week when I would get the results. I told him that was fine, only imagining that employees don't put in a lot of overtime to stay late and open new containers of strange mens legacies.

Today I received a call to let me know the results of my test. Under promise and over deliver, nice.

I figured they would simply tell me if I had swimmers that were alive upon exit or dead, and that would be it. The very nice lady told me I should get something to write down the results. As she started to tell me the results I felt I should stop her and get to know her a little better, offer maybe coffee or something to get to know each other before we speak of such a serious, personal and sexual topic. Then I started to get self-conscious, wondering as they see so many sperm samples, if they had a little employee view able only trophy case for the most lively sperm, and then a case of shame, where most likely my empty container with my initials on it would sit, proud to proclaim they had came, not saw, and definitely not conquered.

Here is what she said:

The normal volume of manness is 1.5 milliliters, and I came in at a very, very conservative 0.5 milliliters. I guess my size 12 shoes have absolutely no correlation to this measurement.

The concentration of sperm in a normal man (who is this guy?) is at least 15 million little spermies. I came in at a ambitious 309.1 million. Quality, not quantity I tell myself.

The motility, which defines how many of that 309 millions (holy shit, isn't that like the American population number? Now I am imagining every American as one of my spermies) are alive and moving. The normal guy is 40% or better. I came in at 58%.

Agglutination defines how well they stick together, and none to minor is normal. I had none to minor.

Then there is forward progressive motility, which I pointed out sounds redundant. She agreed and said it measures how fast they swim. You don't want them to be too fast, because the idiots will bounce right off the egg and wake up on the neighbors couch

the next morning with the cops standing over them . Normal is 2 and mine were at 2.5. So not too crazy and they are also not too slow to just die a lazy lazy utero death.

Morphology shows what percent of them are deformed. 4% non-deformed is normal, I came in around 3%. I asked her to clarify how are they deformed, and she said they can be misshapen and not be able to penetrate the egg. I blame this category on my Hartsock huge head.

The next thing was to look for Round Cells that could be stained, which could mean some type of bacterial infection or immature sperm. I did have some of these that would need to be looked at closer tomorrow, but they wanted me to take some antibiotics for 2 weeks and take another test to see if it makes a difference. She noted that even with stained round cells, it shouldn't be enough on its own to prevent conception.

I rarely get sick and brag that I take very lax the amount of soap I use as I believe bacteria is good for me. Well now I feel a little like an asshole.

I haven't taken antibiotics in years, wanting to build up my own strong immune system, but now, even though I feel perfect, I will start them.

I didn't always want to be a dad. I was the 2nd child of my parents, who then split up when I was 2 years old. My dad would remarry and have another child when I was 12, but they lived in another city and I would only see him 3-4 time a year. My older sister was only about 3 years older than me, but our interests were wide apart, and we didn't do many things together, although we did have a close relationship. So I never grew up with a younger sibling that I would see daily, help teach them the ways of a full energy boy, driving our parents nuts, play video games with, hold in wannabe wrestling moves and become best friends later in life. Later in my childhood I would get a girlfriend, move in with her, get married to her, and have no children well into my late 20's, with not a single thought really about it.

This was during my single years.  I was in a Guitar Hero band called SC9.  Lead guitarist by the way... — This was during my single years. I was in a Guitar Hero band called SC9. Lead guitarist by the way...

After being single for a couple of years, I met a girl. On Facebook. I said something funny on a buddies post, she replied pointing out the funniness, and we became vFriends. She was leaning down and looking to the side in her photo and had perfect wit and spelling; I was wearing a red Isotopes hat and was an aggressive smart ass. We eventually begun to text later on and when we had set up our first physical date, I told her I was going to kiss her the first time I laid my eyes on her.

The morning after our first date she came over to get her car, as I had taken her home the night before. Her mom brought her with her 18 month old baby, Cooper. He came inside my house and tried to pet my cats, who wanted little to do with a strong gripped little human being, and Lindsay and I talked about our night and each other. We were both aggressive towards each other from the start. Cooper was aggressive to eat some cat food he found crawling around.

I met her kids the next weekend at a neighborhood BBQ, playing soccer with the 2 youngest girls in the backyard. Months and soon a year would go by and I got to know the kids better and better, and could see the traits of their mother and grandparents in all of them. I also noticed how Cooper would mimic Jillian's talking motions as he got older, probably heavily due to them both being under school age at the same time. I could see small traits in every younger kid from an older sibling and Lindsay. I found that fascinating. Soon I would see that Cooper even copied some of my traits. It sounds like common sense that kids pick up things from other people around them, but to see it in person opened my adult eyes to something completely new.

Just before she got knocked up, we went to Lake City with some good friends.

Lindsay and I became engaged near her birthday a year after we met, and as we set simple wedding plans, I knocked her up after attending the Coachella Music Festival, going abstinent during the 4 day event (sleeping in a tent next to your buddy will do such things, no matter how many girls in summer clothing are around). I got to watch Lindsay do something she had done 7 times before (5 babies born and 2 losses). I found cereal and snacks all around the house. Got to sit in bed with her and talk about names for the baby, if it was a boy, or a girl. Got to see it squirm around her womb, eventually showing us his penis, his 3D face, and other small, itty biddy features that was impossible for me to imagine what he would actually look like. We talked to his future half-siblings about how they might play and interact with him, and they argued about who would hold him first.

We already decided Cooper would. He would be a big brother. The baby that ate my cat food and started my fascination with kids and learning.

And on December 28, 2011, I finally got to meet him. He was beautiful. He was wet. He was very very squishy. When Cooper met him, he asked if he could pet him. When he finally held him, he just smiled down at him and looked at his mom like it was the coolest toy he's ever seen. All the kids were so excited and wanted to hold him first. Wanted to lay with him once he was home. Wanted to try and feed him. It was overwhelming. Over his first year I swear he learned way more things from watching his siblings go about their days, even when they weren't directly interacting with him, then he did from Lindsay and me.

His first or second little breath, being handed off to mama.

I remember noticing how nothing would make him flinch. Not when I would have a small trip on a rug and suddenly rush forward, only to catch myself at the last second. He would just stoically look at me. I realized he had nothing to be afraid of. Nothing had ever hurt him. He learned to smile, and would smile at so many things. Some things he would only smile once at and never again. He learned that some things just aren't that funny the 2nd time (most Adam Sandler movies).

Lindsay and I decided we wanted to give him a sibling. For a few reasons.

The first was selfish. I wanted 2 kids that I made. 2 kids that I could know and meet from their very first breath. To be part of every minor and major developmental stage of their lives. The second is the older siblings all go to see their father 2 out of 3 weekends. Go on vacations with him. Have interactions all their own that Dodger would never be a part of, directly anyway. As he grew up we noticed how sad he would get when they would be dropped off at their dads. It wasn't anyone's fault this was happening, it was just part of our life. We thought if he had one sibling at least, they could share this time with one another and bond closer, just as the older kids do. The last big reason, is we like our big loud family.

We started to try to conceive another child, but after many many months, Lindsay was not pregnant. So today, after discussing it with one another for awhile, we went to see a fertility doctor. I have ridden many miles on a road bike and for a very quick unpopular time in high school, wore very tight white underwear (this was a check box on the fertility form, so obviously, whoops).

I got to go in a room with a VCR and complete the easiest test I've ever had to take. Seriously, I was done in less than 5 minutes. I checked my hair in the mirror and turned in my test and we spoke with a doctor. Lindsay got a sonogram and they told us that on the surface, nothing appeared wrong, but they still needed to fully grade my test before we would know more for sure.

More should be known tomorrow, and they outlined a general plan for us to follow to try and conceive another child. If this interests you, follow along I suppose. If not, it's okay. This is something I want all our kids to read one day if they find themselves in a similar situation.

I think we should get to know each other better

Passing the easiest test of my life