Our Baby Daddy

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April and I spent several hours this weekend contemplating our baby daddy.

Who knew frozen sperm came with so many options...

Prior to our search, we narrowed down our criteria:

1) Dude has to have some brains. Especially since I'll be the carrier and no child should ever start life with me being the smarter of the two genetic providers.

2) He should have a baby picture on file that makes us go "awwww," instead of "ooooh, bless his heart." Especially since the sperm bank is gonna charge us $50 to see his picture.

3) He has to be donating for the right reasons (or at least be smart enough to say he is). Anyone who answers the question of "Why are you donating?" with "I need beer money" is gonna have to set up shop in someone else's womb.

4) Our baby daddy should have a healthy family and be telling the truth when he reports that mom doesn't do heroin and pappy wasn't a drunk.

5) He's gonna have to be an "open donor" which means he agrees to keep his information on file should our kid decide to contact him after turning 18. I tell people we are choosing this option in case of a medical complication, but the truth is, I'll need to know where to find him for a Come to Jesus meeting if my kid wants to do crazy, unexplainable (and unacceptable) things like: listen to Rush Limbaugh or write a high school paper about Ann Coulter's positive contributions to society.

Other than those few things, we're not all that picky.

Obviously, we want him to have good swimmers, so if he's knocked someone else up, that's a good sign.

It ain't cheap to be gay and preggers.

Once we decided upon our frozen sperm criteria, April and I split up.

I holed up in our downstairs office while she curled up in the recliner in front of the fireplace.

Within moments, we were each logged into the Fairfax, VA cryobank website.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of selection....

Click this box for ethnicity.

This one for education.

That one for eye color. Hair color. Blood type.

Click. Click. Click.

After filling in all the boxes (and creating my ideal baby daddy), I hit "view options" and shifted nervously in my seat, waiting to see if he even existed.

You have 4 matches popped up on my screen.

"Only FOUR?" I muttered. Seriously? Out of ALL the people leaving, um, deposits, only FOUR of them meet our criteria?

It's the open donor thing. Clearly they've been warned about lesbians like me.

Before we took our positions at opposite ends of the house, April and I agreed we'd do individual searches, pick our favorites and see if there was any crossover.

If there was, we'd spend the money on ordering baby photos, audio files, full questionnaires, and anything else that would help put a face on the sperm.

After I dissected all the information provided online for each donor, I looked at my list.

I'd whittled it down to two.

One "Yeah, he looks great" and one "eh, borderline, but a cute baby photo could sway me."

I hollered, "I'm done!"

"I'm done too! Read me the donor numbers and we'll see if we have a match."

I rattled off the numbers and she confirmed we did.



I drug him into the online "daddy shopping cart."

If he ends up being our winner, it'll cost us $673 for one vial of sperm.

$200 more than the sperm of someone who doesn't hold a Phd.

Which got me thinking....

I could love a baby who grew up to be a surfer...

I know I could.

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Lesberita said...

"Ann Coulter's positive contributions to society"

Ah, oxymorons such as these make me laugh and cry at the same time

Paula the Surf Mom said...

Ahhemmmm Surfers? and what would be wrong with having a surfer for a baby?;)

You are a riot... welcome aboard

thewishfulwriter said...

Lesberita: the thought of my kid even knowing who she is makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little. "ANN COULTER!" has taken the place of "FUCK!" in my house. For real. Glad you got a chuckle :)

Paula: NOTHING is wrong with having a surfer for a baby! Especially if it's CHEAPER and they are really cute. Maybe he/she will teach me a thing or two....besides, I don't want a rocket scientist for a kid. I hate feeling stoopid.... :) Thanks for the welcome - glad to be here!