What a birthday present – five ova and the opportunity to make my baby. Nice.

There was some performance anxiety, a tight schedule (I had to go to work afterwards) and the overwhelming fear of not producing my best boys. I mean this is it, this all I do. The ladies do so much more, and are in more, many more, uncomfortable and complicated processes. I am required for all of ten minutes. Well, with all the tension and planning and fear in my head, it was 30 seconds. Leaping into car, with the time limit and beating joburg sun, I handed over my withdrawal like an embarrassed school boy. “hmmm, let’s see… yes these are useless.”

So I am shown to a little room with a couch (surely a living orgasm by now with all its use), a basin, a specimen jar and a couple of mags rolled up. Yup. All was going okay, until my embryologist in the next office got a phone call and had a chat about me…”Yes, he is here. It’s his birthday, he has five lovely presents waiting…”. Focus Gavin, get back on the horse, and ride like it’s My Fair Lady “Come on, Dover, move yer bloody arse!”

The day before had been a rising panic attack. My poor friends, Chemeli, Ryan, Jen, Sarah and Gorm were locked into a trap of forced company. What fears! This is it, the last moment to back out. Was I sure? Was I making a mistake? I mean am I doing the right thing, this poor child, my issues, my poor health, my age…was I too selfish? Was I going to be able to do this alone? Would I manage all the changes? Why not stay single and childless and roam the world with all my expendable income? As Joburg experienced one of its hottest days on record, with moans of “i feel sick.” “I want to go home.” I whisked them all to Monte Casino. When they finally got free. I found a movie to disappear into, who knows what it was about…but I finally got to the end of that day. and well, as you can guess, I was alright in the morning.

Now, today, two fertilized ova have been implanted into the surrogate. It’s Implanation Day. One ovum was already 8 cells, the other 4. They will support each other and in in eight days we will take blood and see if they ‘took’.

Come on, Moet and Chandon, move your bloody arses! ATTACH!