On choosing the nonexistent father of our children.
I’m scrolling again through the faceless numbers that are the potential father of our child.
I’m reading randomly sweet descriptions of childhood memories…
What is your earliest childhood memory?
Donor#3456: Preschool, fending off other kids from the fort I had made and acting like an animal.
Donor#4589: My first memory is from when I was about 3.5 years old and we had an earthquake near our house. There was a chicken ranch down the road and the farmer asked my mom and I if we could help get some of the chickens back into the giant barn that they lived in. They were kept in by an electrical fence but the earthquake cut off the power and the chicks were everywhere. There were hundreds of these little yellow chicks and it was nearly impossible to catch them. But the farmer gave me a couple of the chicks and my mom and I raised them until we gave them away several years later.
Donor #3459: Tasting maple syrup freshly tapped in buckets during winter in New England.
Donor #2456: Around three years old, I was riding my small bike down the street. I knew I was far from home: although only a block away it was an eternity in my mind. I made it to a neighbor’s driveway fence and he stared at me, saying,“Get home, kid.” I was so scared, I turned tail and rode with all my might back home.
I’m reading endless lists of physical features and trying to match them to my wife and I like pieces of some imaginary puzzle.
A cleft chin? A roman nose? Tall? Thin? Curly hair? Athletic?
Donor #5690 is left handed. My mom is left handed and I always loved the way she seemed to write everything upside down. I put a star next to his number.
Donor #8560 seems funny, and light hearted. He answers the biography questions with subtle sarcasm. Under the question of his grandfather’s hobbies he writes “old people stuff”. This made Natalie laugh, and she put him to the top of the list.
After repeatedly reading them all, it becomes more and more clear that it just doesn’t matter. Who we pick, how he appears on the computer screen, what we imagine he looks like…none of this really matters.
None of these men will be the FATHER of our child. None of them will teach our kids to throw a ball or ride a bike. None of them will be part of our world. None of them will be a reality.
They are DNA.
They are a means to a family.
They are an unavoidable necessity.
You would think that this would terrify me on some level…but it doesn’t. Instead I am overwhelmed with a feeling of peace.
After so many changes in what we thought was the perfect plan, we have found ourselves headed down a new road filled with calm, and complete certainty.
This is how we will grow our family.