Lesbians, meet your daddy.

Our sperm came from the west coast. Their website at California Cryobank was wonderful; lots of diverse specimens to select from. Not surprisingly, they were all very young, mostly college or graduate students, and all shared a love for the ocean. Ahh yes, they all surfed or scuba dived or sailed, no matter their eye or hair or skin color. A bunch of true California guys.

Our donor was, at the time of his deposit, in graduate school studying science and was a chiropractor professionally. Olive complexion with thick, brown hair, with a smaller stature at 5'9", and a fairly slim body type. A well rounded person, he had a love for travel, music and animals. We thought he was perfect.

The day I called to book his flight to Dartmouth I was reminded of the last several scenes in 'If these walls could talk' when Ellen's character is going to the sperm bank to get their vial. It was this huge canister with all these big red letter's all over it stating 'this side up' and 'hazardous materials'. Nitrogen to help keep the sperm cold. I remember laughing as she seat-belted it into the front seat of her car, as if it were a little person. It was so big and awkward. And that's why I didn't even flinch when the lady at the sperm bank calmly told me that it would be $175 to ship my vial to New Hampshire. Fine. A small price to pay, honestly.

And then the big day arrived; the day we met our donor for the first time. The actual vial, found somewhere lost in that giant canister, was about the size of an electrical fuse, maybe just a touch bigger. The numbers on the vial matched the donor number we had ordered. And so we were good to go.....