The Score

Negative Pregnancy Tests: 5 / Me: 0

I’m clearly lagging behind here.  The good news is that I feel a bit positive about it right now.  Maybe there is a plan that eludes my current sensibilities.  Thats what I’m banking on, anyway.  It’s getting exhausting to be chronically depressed and disappointed, so I’m trying a new tactic.

Here’s an update in this journey that I’ve affectionately named: The Everyday Life of a Sperm Sleuth.

I’ve asked exactly three people to be un-frozen sperm donors: a local good friend, a new African friend and a dear friend’s gay cousin, who lives out of state.   In each scenario I had a “buckle up” moment with the guy, and then plead my case.  I may be so bold as to say that you haven’t really lived until you’ve sat with a grad student from Ghana at a local coffee shop and popped the big question: May I have your sperm? I’ll pay you.

Yeah, I did that.  Three times.

For truly legitimate and thoughtful reasons, each of them said no.  But my Ghana friend now thinks Americans are even more audacious than he assumed when coming to this country, and we did go see Delivery Man together.  He rolls his eyes when I lament about my once-in-a-lifetime-shot at birthing a biracial baby.  I laugh when he rolls his eyes because Africans aren’t, culturally speaking, sarcastic.

I’ve not taken a true break until now.  I’ve intended to but the past few months I’ve made quarterback decisions to try again.  And by try again I mean scurrying about in the final pre-ovulatory days to find a new donor (goodbye days of thoughtful and prayerful dedication to my perfect sperm counterpart) and getting all the moving parts aligned: cyro tank fed ex’d, predicted ovulation sorted out and coordinating the schedules of my A-Team inseminators.  In a way, I’m getting a leg up on the multi-tasking that comes with children.

Also, it helps when life-beyond-trying-to-get-pregnant is happening.  I had a lovely, spontaneous trip to NYC a few weekends ago with a new friend.  I’m in Washington DC right now with old friends. And honestly, getting pregnant artificially has taken a back burner.  For now.  I’ve decided that my Christmas present to myself is a true little break (back into the medicine cabinet Mr. Thermometer) from temping and being an expert in the nuance of cervical fluids.

I’m assuming I’ll be back in the baby-making-game in 2014, but for now I’m wiping the scoreboard clean.  Let’s hope for a better season next year.

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