Family / Family-building

Finding Mr. Right: Part 2


PHOTO CREDIT: BETSY ARCHER Picking up where we left off after Finding Mr. Right: Part 1.

“Ooooo…How about this one?” S pointed to someone who sounded like a Greek god. I pictured him sitting on a beach somewhere lathered in olive oil, his massive pecs alternating rhythmic contractions.

“Not a chance.”

At this point, we were each on a computer looking at hair color, eye color, psychiatric history. Predisposition to acne? Out. Mother had cancer? Out. Glasses? Out. S already has bad eyes. The whole process started to make me feel gross. Like we were trying to create a new world order or something, weeding out the less desirable genes. I needed us to take a step back.

The decision to go with a sperm bank was not one that we came about lightly or without and grief. I felt sad that, because of our decision, our kids might never know their donor. However, S and I both felt like this was the best decision for our family. What we needed to do was take a giant step back and figure out what we wanted to look for before we started searching donor profiles.

What we came around to was that we both wanted someone like me: a Caucasian person with family from Eastern Europe, brown hair, brown eyes, tattoos, creative, smart-ass. Not sure if we would be able to find this person, we set about the search. We looked at many banks before settling on one with low family limits (if we could avoid having forty half siblings running around, we would).  Then we had to refine our search based on the parameters we had chosen, along with some the bank offers for us to choose: other pregnancies? type of vial? identity release?  It felt important to us that our children are able to decide whether or not to reach out to their donor, so we narrowed our search to only willing-to-be known donors.

It didn’t take long for the right donor to appear. He is a musician and sarcastic, and his family is from where my family is from. S left the final decision up to me. I knew he was the one. Of course, it all makes sense now. From the pregnancy loss with our first donor to the switch to the bank after a year and a half of trying, it all had to happen to lead us to our boy. I still feel uncomfortable with the anonymous donor aspect of how we created our boy. I wouldn’t change it and hope I can work through the kinks before he starts to ask questions.

My partner, who gave birth to him, is Israeli: black hair, olive skin, prominent features. My boy came out fair skinned, light brown hair. People tell me all the time that he looks just like me. I think he does. He totally has S’s cheekbones, but there is something in his eyes that reminds me of my grandfather. The funny thing about it all is that my boy looks like me.

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One Comment

  1. Betsey, what an engaging story. I am endlessly mesmerized by all the many ways we create family. And, oh yeah, congratulations!

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