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I just got back from dotting the i's and crossing the t's and choosing the father of my child. Note how I casually threw that last bit in. Yessiree, I tossed that gem in with as much nonchalance as one would have if one was announcing the selection of say, an avocado.

My donor is one happy, open minded, rational and introspective wanker. Actually, he sounds quite lovely. Can you guess what I'm worried about though? Really worried about?

What if he has a big round arse?

Seriously. And if you think I didn't ask my doctor if he knew...I did. Yes I'm embarrassed. Shut up. God.

Hey! My doctor* is into natural therapies too! So now I'm part of a study he's conducting to assess the effect of natural therapies on pregnancy rates within the IVF framework. Weee!

Did I mention that Stef dropped his bundle? I haven't heard from him in ages, and come last Friday, our come hell or high water, once every two weeks organise to get together night, nothing.

When I told him about this, he said he wanted to be supportive wank wank wank, bla bla bla. Sweet, but it didn't take long for that delusion to come unstuck. I'm not upset or anything though. More relieved than anything, as I knew it would happen, I just didn't know when. I did think it would be a little later down the track though, like when I became insanopoopyheaded from the meds, or later even, when the pregnancy hormones (she says optimistically) kicked in, but his dedication to being supportive lasted all of *checks watch* five minutes.



*the reproductive endocrinologist formerly known as Dr Alf, who shall now be known as 'Marc' because 'Dr Alf'? Puh-leez....