This morning, after dropping RR off at school, I drove to the Reproductive Center and Lab to drop off some paperwork in advance of next week’s visit with the RE. There’s a point in the road where you either turn left or right into two separate parking lots that service two office buildings. The right turn takes you to the building that houses the Reproductive Center (along with an outpatient clinic, breast care center, etc.). The left turn takes you to the building that houses the OBGYN’s office (among a few other offices). Ironic, hm?
The last time we went into the reproductive building was a couple of years ago. We dropped by the center to show off a picture of RR and say our hello’s to the nice staff.
I drove up today and parked in the same spot we used to park in nearly four years ago (*cough* FOUR YEARS AGO). Heading into the building, the front desk man looked at me like he wanted to ask me if I needed help. No, sir. I know exactly where I’m going.
Out of the elevator, I walked down the hall to the lab (a separate office from where the center and RE’s work), and opened the door to find the teeny tiny waiting room, and two nice full-body-lab-coated ladies behind the counter and a sliding glass window. Cue: stomach butterflies.
One of the ladies opened the window and we had a brief chat about what paperwork I was dropping off. I, kind of awkwardly, said, “I’m here to drop off these papers… to transfer the ownership of my semen to my partner.” I admit – I kind of wanted to poke my head through the window and shout while waving, “Helloooooo semen!!” Somehow, I resisted.
She said, “Oh! OK!” and looked over the paperwork to make sure everything was complete. I had forgotten how friendly these people are. How hopeful their faces are. How they make (scientific) magic happen every day. So many butterflies!
So step one of the process, transferring my semen (half of RR’s tiny little genetic make-up) to my wife: Complete.
I walked back to the car and drove away, zipping down the highway (late for work), sunroof open, trees lining the Blue Ridge with their yellow-green tips growing the starts of leaves. I am full of hope and promise and excitement.