Dear “Our Guy,”
You’re our third sperm donor. (When I say that, it kind of sounds like my wife and I are sperm whores. Isn’t that ironic? Two sperm-whore lesbians.)
We didn’t set out to have three donors. But we also never set out to be on this road of ours to motherhood for nearly three years, either. Sometimes, these things just happen. And when I think of where we are now — with you — I hope we’ll be soon saying, “This is why. This is how it was intended.”
We were heartbroken after Donor 1. I had gotten pregnant with twins by his sperm, and we were so excited. We knew that would be it for us, that the twins would be our “only” two children. When I was 15 weeks pregnant, the sperm bank contacted us to say they now had a “limited supply” left from our Donor 1. It was their policy to contact the women who had gotten pregnant with his sperm first, to offer them first choice on the remainder of what’s left. But we were good; we didn’t need any more. I was having a healthy and fabulous (yes, fabulous) pregnancy. Plus, we had four frozen embryos created with Donor 1. We’re good, thanks! Then, as you know, I lost that pregnancy and our twins when my water broke at 17 weeks. And then the FETs (frozen embryo transfers) were all unsuccessful.
Donor 1 was done. Gone. We’d never know the full siblings of our twins. Which was devastating and weird all at once, because we don’t really believe that “full” makes for a better or stronger type of sibling in the first place, and we’re always advocating that love — LOVE — is what makes a family. Yet, Donor 1 was done and we mourned the loss of our twins and the loss of “Luke Skywalker,” which is we what we dubbed him because that’s who he looked like in his donor picture.
Then we found Donor 2. Or, maybe, Donor 2 found us. I guess we found each other. I can’t say too much about Donor 2, because we’ve vowed to protect his privacy, at least until the time was right and agreed upon by all three of us, always planning to take into consideration what was best for any future kids and their desires to meet Donor 2 — whom we would have eventually come up with a better name for than Donor 2, but we never got that far. All four of my attempts to get pregnant with Donor 2 failed. If there’s one thing I’m good at during this fertility journey, it’s failing to get pregnant. Yes, I got pregnant with the twins, but I’ve had more unsuccessful attempts than successful ones overall. So after four perfectly timed tries that didn’t work and some other pertinent but private-for-him things that played a role, it was time to move on.
And now. Now, there’s you. I’m hoping the third time’s the charm. I’m hoping to meet our baby and say, “Yes, right. It all makes sense now. We were waiting for YOU.” Our, of course, means my wife and I, and the you there means our baby. Donor 3, or “Our Guy” as we’ve so affectionately named you, we’re praying you’re the one. We feel blessed that you’re part of this. That you know where we stand and that you’re on board. We’re not looking for a co-parenting situation, and neither are you. You see us — and know us — for who we are. You respect that we are simply two women who want to become mothers. My wife became pregnant with your sperm on the first try, and even though she miscarried, we can’t help but look at this, at you, as very promising.
Our guy. Two lesbians. And our guy.
People often talk about the many different kinds of love floating around this wild and wonderful world. And we’re happy to add the love of our sperm donors — all three of them — to that list. So, thank you.
In undying gratitude,
Aela and Sara
Photo courtesy of Aela MassMore On