Things are afoot in our family.

I wrote some weeks ago about our decision to try for another baby, and then about approaching a donor who felt they couldn’t help us. We understood why, and we were grateful that he knew his mind and heart well enough to know that it wouldn’t work, but we were still sad that he’d said no. That sadness was partly because he would have been a great donor, and partly because we weren’t sure what our next step would be. We didn’t have a backup plan. There was no one else we knew that we felt we could reasonably ask.

In the days that followed our conversation with that friend, we grieved a little over closed doors. Then we started talking about alternatives to known donors. I read about importing semen from Europe for use in clinic assisted IUI, and started making enquiries about good fertility specialists. I made some calls and booked an appointment.

Then, out of the blue, I got a text from and old friend, G. He’d read my blog post, and we started discussing donor-assisted conception. By the end of the conversation, he’d tabled the idea of being a donor for us.

Suddenly, everything had changed again.

Initially, I was nothing but excited. This seemed so perfect. Such a neat solution. Then I started questioning my reaction. Was I just jumping at this because it was a solution? Was it necessarily the right one? Were we making G our rebound donor?

Over the following days SJ and I sat with this new possibility. We had what felt like one ongoing conversation, that we dipped in and out of. It was as if we were both thinking about it pretty constantly, and just vocalising thoughts and reactions as they came to us. She’d be in the kitchen cooking dinner, and I’d be sitting on the couch, and we’d pick up a point that we’d left off that morning, after mulling over it in the course of the day. We also emailed and texted G as questions and thoughts emerged. He was part of the conversation, and soon it stared to feel right.

G has great genes. He’s intelligent, creative, and a very talented musician. He, like Arty’s donor D, knows the difference between a father and a donor. Interestingly, he lives interstate, so the logistics of conception will be a little more complicated than last time, but not insurmountably so.

We’ve spent the last few weeks drafting and re-drafting our donor agreement. There have been many emails, texts and phone calls, and we’ve now come to a place where we think we’re all happy with it.

plans and tea

All that remains now is for G’s medical tests to come back clear, for him to do some final check-ins with his closest family members, and for all of us to officially sign the agreement itself, and we’ll be all set to begin.

It seems that Twoby could be closer than we might have thought.