I originally titled this post “pulling the trigger,” but I don’t really want to use gun metaphors to talk about my potential future spawn.

Several weeks ago, I threw myself an impromptu party…A Sperm Soiree? A Baby Daddy Bacchanal? A Donor Diversion?

I do not have names for these things.

Anyway, a few of my nearest and dearest perused my top choices and gave me feedback. I narrowed it down to two donors (I was pretty sure who I wanted, but wasn’t quite ready to make the call yet). I moved money from my savings to my checking account to pay the $1,560.00 fee for two vials of sperm ($690 per vial plus $180 for shipping across the country). I continued to chart everything that happened in my body via kindara. And I waited.

I dreamed about my ex. I took prenatal vitamins. I played with small children at a baby shower and tried to ignore that there were ten women pregnant at the shower and all of them younger than me. I read books about pregnancy. And I waited.

I went out with friends but didn’t really drink. I tried on a new dress and imagined how I would look in it pregnant. I considered giving up caffeine. And I waited.

And yesterday, I decided I was being utterly ridiculous, so, perched half-dressed on my bed about twenty minutes before I was supposed to leave the house to meet my friends for trivia night, I jumped in. I took the plunge. I ordered two vials of sperm.

There has to be a more beautiful way to say that, right? Two vials of sperm. I’ll think on it.

I chose brains over nice (though hopefully my baby will have both?) and I added them to my cart, just like buying books off Amazon. Click. I am now the owner of two vials of sperm.

I called my youngest sister on the way to the bar (my other sister is not really a phone-talker) and I told my friend at the bar and had a celebratory drink (I had a cocktail called Invincible Summer, which is a faint echo of all the things I want for my potential future spawn). And that’s it. Those are the only people who know. Which for me is the equivalent of an enormous secret, because I tell everyone everything always.

Although I guess Seattle Sperm Bank knows. And my clinic. This blog, but that hardly counts. I have to get used to the idea that the things that traditional couples get to keep private, I’m attempting with an online shopping cart and a couple of medical professionals.

But I own sperm now.

Splash.

 

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