Sometimes researching this book scares the sh*t out of me

I’m writing a book about how our babies were made. Yes, the world still needs more information on this topic. And every once in while I feel the need to do some research. Not THAT kind of research. Because gays don’t make babies the way most people do. At least, we didn’t.

Quickly, as a reminder. We went to a fertility clinic, bought some sperm, and then did tons of scientific experiments on my reproductive organs. Eventually, this resulted in seven zygotes (my little Mexicans) and two girls that we love and who seem pretty normal. Except for their size. They are a bit bigger than the ones we ordered, but that’s fine. Because nothing is perfect, as we were so gently reminded the other day:

Me: Do we have all the information on our sperm donor saved on your computer?

Pam: I don’t think so, but I can probably get it from the web site.

*logs onto web site*

Pam: He’s not here.

Me: What? What happened to him?

Pam: I don’t know.

Me: Why would they do that?

More confusion ensues, including me speculating that he might be dead, have committed a horrible crime or gotten in a bad fight with his wife about being a sperm donor. I will spare you additional details.

On Monday, Pam called the clinic to find out what was going on. And then she called me at work.

Pam: The first question they asked me is whether our girls are healthy.

Me: That’s weird. Were they pretending to be in an 80s horror movie? ‘Are the children safe? You better go check…’

Pam: No. Someone reported that a baby born using his sperm has autism, so they took him off the site.

Me: Really? Wow.


Pam: Do you think our kids have autism?

Me: Um. No. I doubt it. At least, I hope we would have noticed by now. Please tell me we would have noticed by now. I haven’t spent THAT much time playing around on my phone, have I?

Pam: Well, you do spend way too much time playing around on your phone, but that doesn’t cause autism in your children.

Me: Whew.

Pam: Anyway, they are sending our records to us via e-mail.

Me: Great. And let’s never call them again.

Pam: Right.


This is me re-enacting an 80s horror movie. Except that I’m not dressed sexy enough. And we’re talking about sperm banks.

This post is dedicated to the love of my life who wanted to know “when are you going to blog about the crazy sh*t that you have to deal when you use a sperm banks?” I hope you’re happy now.

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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. 



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