This week I passed through the final check-point on my way to having my donations approved for consumption: a check-up and chat with a doctor upstairs from the London Sperm Bank (LSB) in the London's Women Clinic.
I felt a bit strange walking into the Women's Clinic, as I was seemingly the only man around. I had an appointment and was supposed to be there but I felt like I was intruding somehow in the magic of child-making. Did the ladies waiting with me really want to see me sitting there? A donor! Get out!! Get yourself back downstairs to your porn and jars and earn your keep...
I ended up stalking a cute lesbian couple from the downstairs waiting room up to the upstairs waiting room and it was lovely to see them supporting each other whilst they waited for a scan. Neither was showing so it must be quite soon into the pregnancy and I couldn't help but feel a warm glow inside that someday one of my donations would be allowing something similar to happen.
The doctor appointment involved a chat to ensure I was of sound mind and knew what I was getting into and a poke around my genitals, although without the requisite cough. I’m not sure why my genitals needed poking, as presumably the fact that I'm able to produce healthy donations would suggest everything was fine, but I duly dropped my pants and endured the poke before heading back down to the LSB to give another donation.
Dropping back down to the basement I couldn't help but compare the LSB with the London Women's Clinic.
I like the London Sperm Bank, with its brightly painted rooms, but the contrast between the two made the LSB have a slightly seedy feel to it, almost like a bachelor pad: it's in a basement, there's a leather couch with a TV and the rooms where the deed is done have a selection of porn in them (split into straight and gay piles).
Whereas the London Women's Clinic had floral couches, high ceilings, copies of The Economist instead of porn and a lot of very expensive equipment.
It was like those times I've accidentally walked into the ladies changing rooms with that feeling of wrongness: oh this is nice... No wait hang-on, where's the smell of urine and sweat, oh hell I'm in the ladies...
But the LSB feels a bit like home now, grubby porn and all, whereas the Women's Clinic was alien and clinical to me after spending so much time at the sperm bank. From the presence of the nurses in their scrubs to the fact that the receptionist referred to me as Mr, it felt very business like, rather than the friendly smiles and banter downstairs.
I've realised recently that not only have I started getting quite emotionally invested in being a donor but that I'm actually enjoying the experience. I feel good about it! And not just because of the associated orgasms... I look forward to seeing Toyin and hearing her stories of men posting condoms through to them as prank 'donations' (They apparently didn't even tie a knot in it so it leaked out everywhere... vile!)
It's amazing how something that a few months ago felt awkward, uncomfortable and forced is transitioning into 'normal'.
Blog entry written by a London Sperm Bank Donor, an IT Consultant working in the city.