Sperm Donor Adventures: the seventh installment

Sperm Donor Adventures: the seventh installment
(c) Melina Magdalena 2007

The first insemination

Eleven days ago I flew to Sydney for my first insemination. I had booked the flights three days earlier, based on the date of my last period.

Was it a fool’s errand? A woman’s fertility cycle is a curious thing.

Until I had my babies 17 years ago, I was regular as clockwork from the advent of womanhood, when I was exactly eleven-and-a-half, to falling pregnant at nineteen-and-a-half. At least I may presume this was the case. I have distinct mortified memories from the years 1982-1983 when we lived in central Queensland. I was part of an active Girl Guides troupe, and we went camping for one weekend, pretty much every month. Friday night of that weekend each month pretty much coincided with my period, but somehow I never quite remembered to anticipate this. I would awaken Saturday morning in cramped disgust, afraid to crawl out of my sleeping bag and reveal to my Patrol that I had bled all over myself again.

When I embarked upon a sexual relationship with the man who fathered my children, I hadn’t twigged to the connection between menstruation and fertility. He thought if he could get me pregnant he would have me forever in his keeping. More fool he, but I’m the one who got to raise the children!

Last year I was 36. In June I volunteered to participate in a fitness study, part of someone’s PhD. I thought my cycle was regular, but becoming suddenly active again (I had ceased regular exercise upon the death of my dog several months earlier), I skipped a period. Could it be pregnancy? Immaculate conception? I was scared stiff.

So when the same thing happened this March, after I’d been carefully and consistently charting my cycle for seven months, I fell into a heap. There seemed no plausible explanation. Someone suggested stress. I prefer my own interpretation. The universe was playing tricks on me, and I was not supposed to fall pregnant yet.

It did throw the plans I’d made with my donor of choice. I wondered whether I had chosen wrong. I discarded these plans. I’d been concerned for a while about the tone of his emails. He seemed to reveal himself supremely arrogant and snide. Why choose a misogynist queen to father a long-awaited precious gem? I reconnected with another donor and prayed for my period to come.

I bought ovulation tests and tested my wee each day from about day 6 of my cycle. The day I flew to Sydney was day 11. I tested myself in the airport, but still no confirmation of any kind of surge. I was fairly certain I’d had the surge the day before, in the classroom. I felt hotter; I felt wetter; I felt all churned up inside. These are sensations I’ve been familiar with for a long time. It might have been nice to be able to confirm them with some kind of external test, but failing that – I’d bought the plane tickets, and I might as well go through with the plan.

It had been one of those weekends when I didn’t have my kids. They came home to me after school on Tuesday. I worked all day Monday and Tuesday, then went home for dinner and karate, and gently informed my children that I would be going to Sydney in the morning. They were not very happy, and no I didn’t tell them why. I prevaricated. Do heterosexual couples inform their teenage children of their intentions to procreate before the fact?

They would need to get themselves out of bed and off to school, and could go to my parents’ for tea and the Wednesday taxi rides to activities, put themselves to bed, and I would see them on Thursday morning. I made lunches, set alarm clocks, packed my backpack, and lay down to sleep. My mind was a buzz with these kinds of thoughts:

… am I crazy?
… should I trust this man?
… what if the plane crashes?
… do I really want to do this?
… what if I get pregnant?
… what if he is a rapist and a murderer?
… am I a bad mother?
… it’s my only day off this week!
… when will I buy the groceries?
… is this irresponsible?
… I have to do some preparation for Thursday!
… have I got everything ready?
… will I wake up on time?
… what will he look like?
… who can I tell?
... and so on and so forth …

I didn’t sleep much, but I did catch my plane on time.

The precautions I took included telling my sister all about my plans. She had the donor’s contact details, such as they were, and my mobile phone number. She was also going to be in Sydney that day, and we were going to meet up for a few hours in between.

I had also asked the women in Lesbian Parents Australia whether anyone had heard of him. They had. Their comments were pretty positive, even those who had met him but chosen someone else to be their donor.

However, I was still pretty scared. After all, I was rocking up at Sydney Airport and getting into a car with a man I had only ever talked to on the phone and via emails. My heart and my guts felt it would be all right, despite the massive scare campaign launched by my head.

The plane took off from Adelaide in darkness. I had a window seat. That was one of the first good signs. I love to be up that early in the morning, and the day felt full of promise.

I got to Sydney Airport and after several text messages, managed to find the donor, waiting for me in his car. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and leaned in to shake his hand. I think he was surprised, but I needed that physical contact before I was prepared to get in there with him. And yes – it was OK.

We drove off, chatting pleasantly about the day, the traffic, and the plane ride. We arrived where the insemination was to happen. It was a chiropractic practice that he was taking care of while its owner was away. Dingy, dated, vacant and cluttered with all kinds of interesting stuff. I could use a treatment table. He provided me with towels, pillows and a blanket. I had brought along specimen jars and syringes.

Thankfully, he had been a donor before and talked me through the process. As I have told people, I was prepared to defend myself if I needed to, but that took all my energy. I really wasn’t up to being proactive and directing the proceedings. He took them in hand. I was to go out for a walk down the street, and he would prank me on my mobile when it was time for me to return. Then he would go for a walk, and I could prank him when it was all right for him to come back. Very civilized.

Still awkward!

I went out for my walk. I found a bookstore and browsed until my phone rang. Then I hurried back, to find him pouring semen from the specimen jar into the syringe. Good good. And off he went for his walk. I made sure the doors were locked, pulled shut the curtains around the cubicle, and undressed.

Now my bluff was really called. I had the semen. Did I know what to do with it? Would it work? Well, I gave it a go. After all, I’ve done plenty of reading about the best way to achieve conception through self-insemination. I couldn’t believe the smell of the stuff – it nearly made me gag.

Afterwards I lay with my legs elevated, wishing I had something to do. I was bursting with energy. I’ve never been the kind of person who enjoys lying around when I’m not asleep. So I got up and tried to rinse out the things to use them again, even though I had spares. Then I lay down again and pranked his phone.

He returned, and told me I shouldn’t have got up, as all the semen may have trickled out again. I thought positive thoughts. It only takes one sperm to go in the right direction and fertilise the egg! He helped me work out how to catch public transport to be with my sister for the rest of the day, and arranged to meet me back there at around 7:00 pm.

He showed amazing kindness and respect towards me.

We went through the same routine that evening, and then he drove me back to the airport. I thanked him again, got on my plane and flew home on the wings of some angels. I felt good. I had felt present, the whole day long. Yes I was spun out, yes the situation was surreal, but I felt I was achieving something I’ve been working towards for such a long, long time! I sent positive thoughts downwards to where conception might take place.

And the next day I got up, woke the children, and went off to work as usual.

Now I just have to wait and see whether it worked.