DESPITE THE SIZE OF the list, it didn’t take us that long to cut it to five names between us, three for me and two for her. Without comparing notes, we were on the same wavelength. We wanted a child who would resemble us as closely as possible or as Willy joked, “As near to a clone as we could get.”
Because of all the information about donor lineages we read, we considered our own. Over the years, we had talked at great length about our genealogies, intrigued with the possibility we would learn more about each other this way. Both our great-grandparents came from England and Ireland on our father’s side. My mother’s people had some German and Polish origins, and Willy’s mother’s people had Dutch and French. I wondered if we should concentrate on someone with a similar genealogy or look for variety to make a more interesting personality? I stayed safe and went for someone with similar genealogy and so did Willy.
Next, we went for donors who had higher levels of education and were professionals. Willy said it was the snob in us. Of course, we screened out as many of those who had family with even a suggestion of any serious illness experiences and we then went for men who were close to us in age.
Three days after we had met with Dr. Matthews, we drew out our short list and sat in the living room to discuss each and every one in detail. For a while I thought it might actually boil down to height and weight. Willy naturally favored the one who had the best athletic background.
“He’s not as financially successful perhaps, or hasn’t the doctorate two of your final candidates have, but to me he’s more well rounded, and according the psychologist, he’s an aggressive personality. We need to balance out your temperament, interests with someone like this. You’re too meek and we don’t want to raise a sissy.”
“I doubt that we’d raise a sissy with you in this house. You’ll probably have the baby doing sit-ups in the crib.”
I looked at the profile of the donor she was suggesting. Choosing someone Willy wanted was probably a good political move for our relationship and for her assuming half the responsibility for our child. If I did it all, made the choice, got pregnant, delivered, and took on most of the mother role, Willy would feel estranged.
“I think you’re right,” I said. I tapped the paper with the name she had chosen as her top candidate. “This donor is Daddy-O.”
She smiled.
“I decided I definitely want to be part of the home insemination process. In the old days, people used to call it intercourse,” she said and we both laughed. “I think we’re making a mistake not making something of that day or night. It’s a momentous occasion. How often to we permit sperm loose in this house?”
“Stop it, Willy.”
“Not even an insemination dinner with a dozen or so of our friends?”
“No. This is highly personal and private, only for us.”
She sat back and thought and then smiled.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll come up with something highly personal. I have just the idea.”
I didn’t like the way she said that. What had I unleashed?
“What?”
“No comment yet. I have to crystalize my thinking a little more about it, but I promise to make it an enjoyable, erotic experience.”
“Willy, I don’t like the sound of this,” I warned.
“Relax. I promise you will enjoy it as much as I do. Call the good doctor. Tell her we have chosen our sperm.”
The following night, Lois Matthews returned to our house. This time, when she drove up, I stepped out to look at her car to see if there was someone waiting for her again. There wasn’t.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” I told her when she extended her hand.
She was wearing a silky, gold-laced, flesh-tinted camisole with a built-in shelf bra under her white suit jacket. Her pants were form-fitted. I thought she looked smart, but even more beautiful.
“No problem. I’m glad you two called so soon. I enjoy this trip and love Palm Springs. It’s more pleasure than work for me, believe me,” she said.
I saw she carried a bottle of wine.
“You brought us wine?”
“To celebrate and toast your decision,” she said, handing it to me.
“Thank you. Come in,” I said.
Willy emerged from the kitchen carrying a silver tray with three wineglasses and a plate of cheese and crackers.
“Hey, Doc,” she said.
“How did you know we’d need the glasses?” I asked, smiling with surprise.
“Lois told me she was bringing a top pinot noir from Napa,” Willy said.
“Told you? When?”
“Will you stop the Inquisition. As the other half of this, I have a right to talk to our sperm pusher. Shall we?” she added, nodding at the living room.
Dr. Matthews and I followed her. This time Willy sat beside her on the sofa. She looked at the wine when I handed it to her and nodded, impressed.
“See what she brought?” she asked, turning the label to me. We knew the vineyard and knew it was expensive.
“I see what it is, Willy. Thank you, Lois.”
Willy began to uncork it.
“Now then,” Dr. Matthews said. “Before we start, let me congratulate you on your choice of donor. I always like to try to guess about whom my clients will choose after I meet them.”
“Don’t tell us you choose him, too,” Willy said.
“No, not him specifically, but he was one of my top three choices.”
“We’re that predictable,” I said, not completely disguising my note of annoyance.
“It’s not a matter of being predictable. It’s a matter of intelligent evaluation, and the two of you looked like you were capable of that.”
“Hey, Lois,” Willy said, pouring the wine, “you don’t have to stroke us anymore. We’re in, ready to sign, ready to get impregnated.”
Dr. Matthews laughed.
“That was a sincere compliment,” she said, “absent of any ulterior motive.”
“Willy always says every compliment has an ulterior motive,” I said. “Even if it’s just to win a compliment for yourself. Don’t you, Willy?”
“Do you mean that as a compliment or a criticism?” Willy asked, and she and Dr. Matthews laughed.
“Let’s get to our toast,” Dr. Matthews said, raising her glass.
“Kate?” Willy said, holding out mine. “I assume you want to be part of this since you’re making a small poached egg contribution.”
“Very funny.” I took the glass.
“To a wise decision and a successful pregnancy and birth,” Dr. Matthews said.
We all drank.
She then opened her briefcase and spread the papers on the coffee table.
“These are for you to read and sign. They include all the fees involved and what is involved in your physical,” she explained.
I looked at it.
“We have a doctor of our own,” I said.
“He’s just a regular practicing family physician, Kate,” Willy said. “Why not use their specialist?”
“It won’t cost you any more than it would with your physician, I’m sure,” Dr. Matthews said.
“I’m not worried about the cost.”
“So?” Willy said.
“All right, perhaps,” I said.
“Good. Now, let’s talk about your menstrual cycle.”
“A most interesting topic,” Willy said. “Fortunately, our Kate here is as regular as a Swiss timepiece.”
“That’s terrific,” Dr. Matthews said. “Morgan Patterson believes that is a good indication of a contented woman, someone who doesn’t suffer too much stress in her life.”
Willy smiled as if she were solely the reason. Dr. Matthews picked up on it instantly.
“At the risk of being accused of delivering another compliment, might I say you two are one of the most compatible and satisfied of the couples I have met, and I have met quite a few.”
“Thank you,” Willy said. “Kate?”
“You haven’t known us that long. How did you come to that conclusion so quickly?”
“I have a built-in people meter. Am I wrong?”
“Yes, Kate, is she wrong?”
“No. I guess what you say about us is true. Thank you. Let me continue looking over the paperwork,” I added, reaching for the rest of the documents.
“Please don’t consider this in any way condescending, but I do like to explain the basics about fertility and success.”
“Oh, do enlighten us, Lois,” Willy said. “Not being a heterosexual couple, we haven’t been overly concerned about it.”
I stared at her and felt the heat in my own eyes.
“What?” she cried.
“Stop,” I merely said.
Lois watched us and then sipped some more of her wine before putting the glass down to continue.
“You might have had some of this in basic biology or high school health courses, but…”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m not arrogant enough to think I know it all.”
“Actually, most heterosexual couples even with a well-planned intercourse have only a twenty to twenty-five percent chance of getting pregnant in any given cycle.”
“What’s your success rate at Genitor?” I asked.
“One in twelve, about eight percent for vaginal insemination.”
“This can get pretty expensive then,” I said, glancing at the fee schedule.
“You already said money is no object,” Willy said quickly, and poured herself and Dr. Matthews more of the pinot noir. “Besides, let’s be more optimistic considering Kate’s regularity.”
“That is a plus as is her age, being under thirty. We’ll work on her fertility awareness, too.”
“We? Aren’t you proposing to do a lot more for us than you usually do?” I asked. I had, unbeknown to Willy, made inquiries of other sperm banks and their procedures. Few gave the personal attention Dr. Matthews was giving us.
“We intend to become the number one sperm bank in the country,” Dr. Matthews said. “Doing a little more is what will get us there.”
“Well said,” Willy cried, and tapped her glass to Dr. Matthews’s glass.
The way they were smiling at each other was beginning to make me uncomfortable. They were like conspirators and I was on the outside. Willy was being too carefree. After all, we were still talking about my body. There goes our perfect, stressless relationship, I thought.
“As you know, a woman’s peak fertility occurs right before ovulation. Her egg lives for only six to twenty-four hours after ovulation. Frozen sperm makes the timing even more crucial.”
“Why?” I asked.
“While fresh sperm can live three to five days within a woman’s body, thawed sperm lives for twenty-four hours at most.”
“Fresh sperm lives inside a woman three to five days?” Willy asked.
Lois nodded.
“I knew there was a good reason to avoid men. Creepy crawler for three to five days.”
“I’m sure women don’t feel anything, Willy,” I said.
She shrugged.
“Since ovulation occurs twelve to sixteen days before the first day of the next period, we have more of a crapshoot,” Lois continued, ignoring us the way a teacher might ignore two annoying students in her class.
“Shouldn’t that be ‘sperm shoot’?” Willy asked.
“More of a deposit than a shoot,” Dr. Matthews told her.
“Touché,” Willy said, and they clinked glasses.
Was it the wine or was Willy just being a horse’s ass to irritate me? Glaring at her didn’t matter.
“We’ll watch your fertile cervical mucus,” Dr. Matthews continued, returning to her formal and professional demeanor, “chart your basic body temperature, and use an OPK, Ovulation Predictor Kit, in which a simple urine test measures the presence of LH, luteinizing hormone, the catalyst for ovulation. We do recommend inseminating two days in a row at twelve-hour intervals.”
“Well, that sounds like we’re hedging our bet a bit, doesn’t it, Kate?”
“Yes.”
“So, are you signing those papers or not?” Willy asked, nodding at the table. I had the pen poised but had not signed anything.
We had finally come down to it. The moment of truth.
“We have some more wine to drink,” she added, and again, Dr. Matthews and she smiled as if they were old friends.
“Before I sign, are you sure you want this as much as I do, Willy?”
“After some deep introspection, and the fear that if my arm is twisted anymore it will simply come apart, I believe I do,” she said.
I signed the papers.
Dr. Matthews quickly put her copies into her briefcase, giving me the impression she was afraid we might change our minds.
“Well, then,” she said, sipping her wine and sitting back on the sofa, “From the way you two talk about your periods, Kate, I think we could attempt it just before your next ovulation.”
“But isn’t that’s a serious departure from normal procedure? I read that most sperm banks recommend following a client’s cycle for three months prior.”
“Well, it’s true that most sperm banks recommend that and in general we do as well, but if you are as regular as you say you are, I don’t…”
“You are as regular as we say you are, aren’t you, Kate?” Willy interjected. Of course, she knew.
“I suppose so.”
“So? Don’t you want to get this started sooner than later?” Willy pursued.
“Yes, of course.”
“So?”
Willy was more interested in my being pregnant than I was and I found it annoying. It was irrational of me. I had been working so long at getting her to agree and to want it at least as much as I did and now that she was enthusiastic, very enthusiastic, I was bothered. It made no sense.
“Okay,” I said. “Let me look at the calendar.”
“I can tell you right now,” Willy said. “You’re nine days away from your next ovulation.” She turned to Dr. Matthews. “Please don’t ask me how I know that with such certainty, Lois,” she said. “You’ll make me blush.”
They both laughed. I sat back and reviewed dates and time. Willy was right.
“All right, then,” Dr. Matthews said. “We should get you to see the doctor ASAP. How about tomorrow afternoon, say about three?”
“How do you know the doctor is available?”
“I know her schedule,” she said. “We have other clients in the pipeline, don’t forget.”
“She?”
“Yes. Dr. Esther Aaron. If all goes well, we could begin in seven days. Let’s be optimistic. I’ll put the date down right now,” she said, reaching into her briefcase for her PDA. “I’ll return here with the donor sperm about eight P.M. We would inseminate again at 8 A.M. How’s that sound?”
“You would have to drive back and forth and leave pretty early for the second insemination,” Willy commented.
“It’s not a problem for me.”
“So you’re definitely going to personally deliver it and supervise the insemination?” I asked.
“If you don’t mind. Only if you don’t mind,” she emphasized.
“Why would she mind, Lois?”
“It’s a pretty personal event, Willy,” Dr. Matthews said.
“Exactly,” I added.
The two of them looked at me, both looking surprised at my vehemence.
“I would think you’d want to do anything, have anything to ensure success, Kate,” Willy said. “Besides, Dr. Matthews is a professional. She’s seen it before, I imagine,” she added, suddenly referring to Lois as Dr. Matthews.
“Oh, a few times,” Dr. Matthews said, smiling. “But don’t feel pressured. That would be detrimental. You need to be rested, relaxed, comfortable.”
“Well, we have a few days. We’ll discuss it,” Willy said, looking at me.
“Of course. I just need some heads up to plan the delivery should I not be bringing it,” Dr. Matthews said.
Willy and she stared at each other a moment.
“Would you excuse us a moment, Lois?” Willy said, rising. She jerked her head toward the doorway.
I rose and followed her out. We went into the kitchen. Willy leaned against the counter and folded her arms under her breasts tightly.
“What’s the bug up your ass?”
“Since when did you get so cozy with her?”
“I’m not cozy. Why do you say that?”
“You called her and didn’t tell me you did.”
“Yes, I called to ask some questions on my own, and she said she was very excited for us and wanted to bring the wine.”
“Maybe she’s not so bisexual.”
Willy shook her head.
“First you complain about Janet’s drooling over me and now this. You’re behaving like a woman in the throes of some kind of pregnancy depression. What’s going to happen when you look pregnant and lose your precious figure?”
I felt the tears coming to my eyes and turned away.
“Thanks.”
“Look, Kate. I’m not trying to upset you. You don’t want her to do anything more? I’ll tell her thank you. Please just send the sperm airmail.”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just…”
“What? Happening so fast? Jesus, Kate, you’re like one of those people who are warned they should be careful what they wish for; they’re liable to get what they wish for.”
I took a deep breath.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m getting too emotional.”
“You are. As I said, you’re behaving like a woman who’s already pregnant? Sure you’re not?”
“What?”
“Maybe this whole thing is a cover-up,” she teased.
“You know what you can do with that idea, Willy?”
“I used to do that. Got bored with it. If you’re sure now, we’ll go back and let her know. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.”
“Could have fooled me,” Willy said.
She smiled and then stepped forward to kiss me.
“I just want to see you happy,” she whispered. “Then I’m happy, so it’s a selfish thing. You know, like Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It all comes out of what you want for yourself.”
“You’re such an idiot,” I said, laughing. “But that’s what I like about you.”
“Funny, that’s what I like about you.”
Dr. Matthews was sitting back coolly, sipping her wine when we returned to the living room. She looked up at us, anxious, her eyes scrutinizing our faces.
“It’s settled,” Willy said. “We’ve decided we would appreciate your being a part of the home insemination.”
“No problem. Glad to do it.” She set her wineglass down. “Now how about a tour of your house? I haven’t gotten any farther than this room.”
“What? Sure,” Willy said. “Kate?”
“Yes, of course. Please. Let us show you the den, the kitchen, the bedrooms. We have two guest bedrooms, and Willy has her own gym.”
“Sounds wonderful. I admire the view from the rear, too. I been looking through the windows here,” she said.
“We’ll show you the pool, too,” Willy said, and we began our tour.
When we arrived at our bedroom, Willy asked her how she liked the laboratory. Of course, she laughed.
“All laboratories should be this comfortable. Believe me, it beats some aseptic, impersonal, cold room in a clinic. I think there’s a lot to say for home insemination.”
“I know what you mean,” Willy said, winking at me. “Most of the nicest things that happen to you, happen to you in your own bed.”
Dr. Matthews laughed again. It seemed nothing Willy could say would be unamusing.
“Well, I had better get going,” she said.
We returned to the living room so she could get her things. As we were about to say goodbye the phone rang. It was for Willy. She waved goodbye to Dr. Matthews and I escorted her to the front door.
“This is going to go just fine for you, Kate. I have no worries about your physical, and I know you’ll be getting ideal sperm. You’re going to have a beautiful child.”
“We are, Willy and me,” I emphasized.
“Of course. That’s what I meant.”
She opened the door.
My heart was pounding, but I had to say it.
“The last time you were here, I thought I saw someone in the car with you. Someone had been waiting for you all that time?”
“My car? No. There was no one,” she said. “It was probably just the shadows and the light playing tricks. Besides, why would I leave someone in the car all that time?”
“That was what made me curious.”
“Well, there was nothing about which to be curious. Have a good night. I’ll call in the morning to confirm your doctor’s appointment. Good night,” she said, and walked to her car.
This time when she pulled out, there was no question she was alone.
But I didn’t believe her.
Someone had been in that car with her the last time.
Why would she lie?