Who's Your Daddy??

We've covered why I wanted to have a baby.  And I've reread that post to myself many times over the past few days to remind myself why.  But why did I want to physically have a baby as opposed to adopting one?

Well - to be honest.  I didn't.  I wanted to adopt.  There was something about being pregnant alone that was super unappealing to me.  And very superficially of me - I was afraid what it would do to my body.  You chicks who have partners - they've done this to you.  If you end up with a pouch, striped like a zebra, with saggy boobs....he has to love your body anyway.  You made a life together.  I'm single and hoping not to be forever.  I didn't have a fantastic body, but I was pretty down with it.  I really liked my boobs the way they were.  I had heard horror stories on how your nipples get massive, and turn dark and you get a line of dark hair up the centre of your body...WHAT?  My god - let someone else go through that, and I'll thankfully raise the child.  I kid you not, I would wake up every morning when I was pregnant chanting, 'please let my boobs look the same, please let my boobs look the same.'  And thankfully they did.

Anyway - adoption.  I started to research.  International adoption, Canadian baby adoptions, Children's Aid adoptions.  I went to an adoption information session and listened to these incredible families talk about these children, their children, that they were raising, and I was moved.  But I was more moved by the other attendees...people who had tried to conceive for years and couldn't and I thought how selfish of me to not try and have my own if I could.  I decided that night, that that was the way it would be... some stranger who gets paid to jerk off in a cup on his lunch break would father my child. 

My male friends thought it would be an awesome reality show if they all jizzed in a cup, combined the swimmers and then waited to see whose actually did the deed and fertilized my egg.  I wasn't convinced.  So I started the hunt.  I online shopped for the man who would provide half the dna to my kid.  Sounds surreal?  It is surreal but my god, for a control freak like me, it's awesome.

I went through many, many profiles of men.  It's a bit like online dating except you know you don't have to meet them.  I waded through the profiles and culled it down a top ten and then, very appropriately, I had a cocktail party with my closest friends to let them help me.  There were engineers, a minister, musicians, artists.  They were young and old.  They were all tall and relatively handsome.  I knew who my top pick was but I was curious to see theirs.  In the end, we all had the same top two but in reverse order.  The next day my dad and step-mom and my sister perused.  They also had the same top two.  When I called to place my order (yup, just like online shopping), I decided to go with my friends first choice since I tend to have crappy taste in men.  And...he was sold out.  Yup - 'we just sold the last of him today'.

You mean to tell me the person that I've selected to father my kid is SOLD OUT?

She told me to go back and rethink my choice.  But I didn't need to.  It was fate and my first choice...a 6"2, 24 year-old glass blower from the eastern United States would be fedex'ed up to my doctor in a couple of weeks.  Well, not him, but you get the picture. 

There are many times now when I get that 'what if' shudder.  What if the first guy hadn't been sold out?  Would I have gotten pregnant?  What would Will be like?  It's a very strange thing to think about.

I call this guy Will's father.  I hope someday he has a dad but this guy will always be his father.  On Father's Day last year, we went to the park, ate ice cream and let some blue balloons go. 

Will was psyched to get the ice cream.  I was psyched to have Will.  When Will turns 18, he can meet his father, I hope he wants to because I'd like to give him a hug and thank him.  Then I'd like to kick him in the ass because these stubborn, demanding genes must come from him?  Right?  RIGHT?