Choosing Daddy

Ok, so after three years of mostly blissfull marriage, the wife and I decide to take the next step. Actually we decided this a while ago, but it's not that easy to find sperm. It's not as if you can pop into the BP shop at three in the morning, pick up a Coke, a loaf of bread, ciggies and a straw of 6ft tall, dark hair, dark eyes with a Law Degree. I came up with the idea of sending her off to some dodgy bar right after ovulation with a fistfull of Rufies and we see what happens, but that was shot down for some or other reason.
We did think of approaching our friends, but being the darlings that they are, they would all like to be "involved" in the baby's life. "Involved" how? I think it's going to be difficult enough for the kid to explain its two mothers, now we're gonna throw in a part-time dad as well? Then comes the question of maintenance, should he pay if he wants to be "involved" or not? And if he's involved as Dad, and my wife is Mom, what the hell does that make me, chopped liver?
Eventually we found a mate that wanted absolutely nothing to do with any and all offspring, so we attempted the home insemination! For all those Lesbines who read the story in the You Magazine about the couple with the champagne glass and the Turkey baster and went "Aaaawwwww"....., Up Yours, I say! There is absolutely nothing romantic, sweet, nurturing or bonding about approaching your better half with a syringe half full of a (rather satisfied at that particular moment) friend's man-juice and expelling said syringe into that very special place where it's supposed to go (contrary to most porn movies that insist it goes everywhere else)! We gave that up as a bad idea.

Sooo, we decided to take the medical approach. After chatting to some friends who took this route very successfully and ended up with the most beautiful cherub ever, we ended up with quite a few options. Several of these options would have been perfect for us if we had just won the Lotto, or maybe the donors were all Nobel Laureates or Male Supermodels. Either way, they were waaayyy out of our price range. We ended up making an appointment at a fertility clinic in Parktown. We arrived 15 min early for our appointment and as per usual when visiting a new medical practice, we were handed the obligatory file of papers to fill out and pointed in the direction of a row of seats. After 20 min (by now I had almost mastered Portuguese as that seemed to be the only language spoken in the waiting room) we were summoned by the resident psychiatrists who proceeded to check our mental stability. Question 1: "Have you really thought about this?" Uuuummmm.....no, I was in the neighbourhood and thought, gee, why not pop into the fertility clinic and have ourselves a baby! Question 12: "What if you change your mind?" Well, hell, that's easy, bring it back for a refund?? Are they serious with these questions?
Anyhoo. About 20 min later we're back in the aforementioned waiting room waiting patiently to see the gynae. By now the waiting room is chock-a-block, the receptionist is running around like a chicken without a head looking for some misplaced files and yelling at everyone, the psychiatrist is trying to keep the peace, we keep hearing hushed rumours that the doctor isn't even in and all in all the natives are getting restless. Just as I'm about to lead a revolt, we get summoned into what can only be described as a closet by a woman dressed as a suicide bomber. She proceeds to ask even more questions, and I'm like, cool, a female gynae, only to discover that she's actually the office manager and only really worried about who's settling the increasing-by-the-minute bill cause they are not affiliated to medical aid. By now I'm feeling decidedly like a lot of people who wore pink triangles and were herded onto cattle cars during the Hitler regime! Back to the now even more full waiting room where we squeeze ourselves between an elderly Portuguese man and what I hope to God is his grand-daughter! Finally we get called in to see The Doctor...Yes, it was spoken in hushed, Capital Letters and I fully expected there to be a glowing backlight on him when I entered the hallowed inner office, but alas, he was just a man. Said man's initial question to us was "So, why can't you get pregnant?" After a rather long pause which was filled with me looking at him, trying to ascertain whether he was joking or not, I replied with a simple "Cause I don't have a penis???"

to be continued.....