We’re hanging in there after this weekend’s blow. I told J Saturday evening that I wanted to drink, so she gathered me up and took me out for margaritas. We then bought beer, sat on our balcony, and drank late into the night. We even had sex, after which I sobbed. (If you’ve never broken into tears after an orgasm, I recommend it–it’s a pretty incredible, though bizarre, release.) The whole night was therapeutic, and we woke up yesterday morning feeling like shit, but making plans and looking forward.
Over the past day, Mr. G and I have exchanged emails. I let him know that we wouldn’t be going through with this cycle, and I thanked him for helping us out throughout the past year. He hasn’t been perfect, by any means, but I’m grateful to him nevertheless. He told me that he’s sorry he can’t keep helping us (for reasons mentioned below), that he hopes we’re looking for a new donor and hopes this happens for us soon. He says he knows we’ll make good parents. The exchanges have been good and even a little healing. But I’m also reflecting quite a bit on the events that have brought us here.
Nearly two years ago, a friend of ours offered to be our donor through another friend. We had never asked him, but he thought he might like to help us out. We finally sat down and talked with him about a year and a half ago, and we let him know that if the offer still stood, we were interested. We simply asked that he get back to us within a month to let us know what is decision was. At that point, he told us he was 99% sure. We never heard from him again. He even stopped talking with one of our mutual best friends. It was devastating.
At that point, I decided we were not going to be relying on people we know to build our family. It was too painful. At that point, I started researching sperm banks, and when that proved to be financially intimidating, I started finding online donor groups, like those some of you have mentioned. I held my breath and posted an ad with a few of these groups. I had plenty of responses: men who wanted to have as many offspring as possible because it was their “religious responsibility” as Jewish men; men who insisted that they could get me pregnant on the first try because that’s what happened with their wives (only their wives didn’t know about their offers); men who insisted they could help us start a family if only we would have sex with them; men who couldn’t spell or string a complete sentence together to save their lives; men who wanted reports from doctors on my weight as well as copies of pay stubs from our employers and evaluations of our mental health. There were so many “winners” that I began to think, Okay, this was a mistake.
Then came an email from “helpful donor,” that started out, “I think we might be a good match. I’m also working to teach at the college level. Here’s an ad I posted elsewhere. Let me know if you’re interested.” And so, J and I read on, and we liked what we heard. I started a correspondence with this man, and it continued for a few months. He sent us photos, filled out donor profile forms, gave us confirmation that he was disease-free, and even applied and was accepted to be a donor at a sperm bank. And so began our arrangment with Mr. G.
We’ve had a rough go of things. Despite Mr. G’s generosity and insistence on paying for everything, he’s not always been reliable. This stems primarily from our decision to use email to preserve his anonymity. Unfortunately, we’ve missed two cycles as a result of this. He always felt bad, even tried to make up for it once or twice by sending extra sperm, not that this would have worked, but he tried. I’ll give him that.
But now we’re moving on. Mr. G is leaving the country for a year or more within the next few weeks (before I ovulate next), and we’re still not pregnant. Now we’re not pregnant and don’t have a donor. I have a weird sadness about saying goodbye to Mr. G. He’s become a friend through this process, and even though he hasn’t always been reliable, he’s been kind, agreeable, helpful, and generous, and I’m amazed that we found that with a total stranger. J and I had grown accustomed to talking about what this guy would contribute to our child in the way of appearance and other traits. He’s one of the reasons we named our blog what we did (he’s a smarty pants with too much education just like me and J). It’s weird to get used to the fact that his DNA won’t have anything to do with our offspring.
So now we move on. We may start looking for a new donor through that same message board where we found Mr. G, but I don’t know yet. We’re also considering saving up to buy sperm. Either way, we’re going to try to get back on the horse again in August, and I hope we’re able to stick to that goal. In the meantime, I’ll be here to write about all sorts of other subjects. I may not talk about peeing on sticks or BBT, but I’ll still be here rambling away, sharing little slices of my life with all of those willing to listen.