Plan B

Before I get to the gist of this post, let me just make one thing perfectly clear: I adore my son.  He is the most wonderful, loving. funny, challenging, maddening, surprising human being on Earth.  I couldn't replace him any more than I could grow a third ear, but I can't deny that the thought of having a second child appeals to me quite a bit...a lot...okay, I want to be a Mum again - there, I said it.  I would prefer to conceive the natural way - the fun way - and at forty I think, (I hope), I've enough good child-baring years left in me to allow sufficient time to find a guy whose genes I'd like to pass on.  Truth be told, I'm not all that fussy when it comes to qualities I look for - apart from brains, rapier wit, cheek, strength, sensitivity, creativity, nice eyes, great listening skills, a working knowledge of vowels and consonants and a pathological hatred of reality TV.  I'm about eighty-five per cent positive that I'll find this guy in the next couple of years, but a friend of mine, (who shall remain nameless lest she should have to kill me slowly), has already decided upon a plan b just in case fate decides to womb block her.

She has taken out private health insurance that covers her for assisted pregnancy, and has started researching sperm donation.  It's all she's been talking about for months and it was during one of these conversations that she told me I should look into it as well.  I think it's a bit pessimistic for her to be allowing for eternal spinsterhood at the age of thirty-two but I Googled it anyway, merely for analytical purposes you understand, and was pleasantly surprised by what I found...mostly.

There are two options for women who wish to 'receive' (*immature snicker*) donor sperm in this country; shop direct or go on Se-Bay (Ha!  See what I did there?).  Both options cost about the same (on average $400.00-$600.00), but two things stood out to me about the latter.  The first was that the sites I looked at felt eerily similar to dating sites - a long time bug bear of mine, as everyone knows.  Each guy gave a detailed description of his physical attributes, his occupation, and his relationship status, but if you wanted to see what your potential Baby Daddies looked like, you'd have to pay to gain access to his pictures.  The going rate is anywhere from $100.00-$200.00, and bear in mind that's before you proceed to the checkout.  When you do decide upon a candidate, it isn't just a matter of typing in your MasterCard digits and pressing ship - there are more decisions to be made!  If you want a 'Clean' sample, you will need to shell out around $600.00, whereas if you're content with an 'unclean' sample, you'll receive a $200.00 discount.  What bothers me about this is that the sites don't elaborate on what they mean by Clean or Unclean.  Given that we live in the real world, I'm going to go ahead and assume that they don't mean untested, leading me to conclude that the vessel containing the precious essence is delivered to your door as is - from stable to table, as it were. 

Will someone out there with expertise in this arena please tell me I'm wrong about this?

All in all, apart from the aforementioned concerns, I have no objection whatsoever to self insemination - on the contrary; I think it's a fantastic idea, and am glad I live in a world where people don't have to take their love with them when they die.  I still think my friend is prematurely conceding (pun intended), but as for myself, it's starting to sound like an attractive idea if I'm still alone in a year or so.  Does anyone else have any thoughts about it?  

Until my next post, I'll just be sitting here on the couch in scuba gear, bracing myself for the tidal wave of opinions.               

A conversation

My son came to me the other day and made a startling confession. 

'I don't want you to ever have a boyfriend, Mum.'

G is not one for pouring his heart out all that often, so I knew that it had taken a lot for him to admit this to me.  I also knew that if I wanted to delve any deeper into the issue, I would need to approach it very gingerly, because if he were to realise that I was questioning him, he would see it as an interrogation.  I would then loose his trust, and he would clam up altogether.  I even left him standing, because an invitation to sit down would mean one thing to him and one thing only: a Mum Talk.  Barely looking up from my laptop, I began my investigation.

'How come, Hun?' 

He shrugged and looked at his feet.  This one was going to be a revelation.

'Because you're my mum.  If I saw you doing all that lovey-dovey stuff, it'd make me uncomfortable.'

Big shocker there; no kid wants to see his mum kissing any bloke other than his dad.  I looked at him a bit longer before I resumed pretending to work. 

'I'd never do anything that made you uncomfortable, babe.  If and when I do get a boyfriend, I promise there will be no canoodling in front of you.'

He was silent for a few minutes.  Percolating things. 

'Mum?'

'Yeah, Hun?'

'It isn't just that that bothers me,' he said as he came over and sat next to me on the couch. 

I closed the lid to the laptop and steadied myself.  He had been the only man in my life for the better part of thirteen years, so the thought of his mum loving anyone other than him must have been too terrifying for words until now.  He was always there for me with an inappropriate joke when I was having one of my down days.  He was always the first person to kiss me good morning and the last person to kiss me goodnight.  He was the person on whom I could always count for unconditional love.  I, in turn, was the person who knew him better than he knew himself.  The person who would drop everything at a moment's notice to help him with his homework.  The person who put his needs and wants above anybody Else's.  His brow was furrowed with concentration; I could practically hear him mulling it all over. 

If I fell in love, everything would change; our television viewing habits, our living arrangements, and, most earth shatteringly, he would loose his position as number one guy in the family.  He had been storing this stuff for years, filling the shelves of his mind with angst and insecurity.  He was about to let it all out, clean house as it were, and I was the vessel into which he was going to pour everything.  Oh yes, I had been preparing for this day for some time.  I was ready for the angry tears, the wails of indignation.  As a mother, this was my time to shine.

'Baby, you know I could never love anyone as much as I love you, and that is never going to change.  The love between a mother and a child is different to the love between a man and a woman.  You know that, right?  I will always be there for you, boyfriend or no boyfriend, and if he doesn't understand that, then I won't make him a part of our lives.'

For a moment, he just stared at me.  Foolishly, I took his look of incredulity as confirmation that I'd made a connection.  My little boy had reached out to me in a time of personal crisis, and I pulled him up from the depths of despair.  Angelina Jolie might have half a football team for a family, but she had nothing on me. I was Super Mum!

'You're too old to have a boyfriend!  If my friends at school saw you, I'd die!'

All lesser beings bow before me.