Sample (Take 2)

No one can know the sheer shame and embarrassment of being greeted by your first name by the staff of a sperm bank; it was bad enough to catch the eye of the receptionist as I walked up the short drive and for her to give me a jaunty little wave, but to be greeted by your first name as you walk through the door. Well that's beyond comment, don't they realise this is a deeply sombre and embarrassing affair?

To be that memorable after a lone first *shakes head*

As I was walking to the clinic I received a paniced phone call from EJT saying that my Father-in-Law was planning to come round and mow the lawns. She had visions of me 'mid-act' and being walked in upon. Thankfully it was all done by this point.

Not easy at home, hard to get hard, but significantly easier than in the sterile environement of Burton hospital. The need to produce something significant is stressful in it's self, but I felt I equated myself better on my second go. Although the massive pot that they provide you with would make anyones 'output' appear inadequate.

We haven't shared much information with family or friends; perhaps it may have helped, perhaps not? I still think we could have broken a few taboos, maybe we still can? The weight of expectation is increadably heavy; my own, the expectations of EJT, those of both families and friends. Our lack of children is always very obvious and often provokes comment.

I pissed everything out last time, so I made myself drink copious fluids the morning prior, this in created an issue in itself on the thirty mile journey from home to Burton. But at least I wasn't dehydrated when the time came.

In preparation I got everything together, car packed for work (uniform, meal and paperwork) and clothes left out at the ready. Showered, shaved and brushed teeth. Did the deed. Showered again (can't help but feel grubby following). Dressed and departed, sample dug deep in my trouser pocket, mindful of the instruction to keep it warm.

Arrived at the clinic an hour on the dot following production. Two hours out of my day (an hour there and an hour back), to what in the end amounted to dropping off a pot and using the trusts facilities. Under ten minutes spent on the car park, 80p for the privalidge.

Then straight into work on a late shift, flushed, ashamed and embarrassed. Dirty boy. The childish rhyme “We know what you've been doing!” playing loudly in my brain.

But it's done now, irrespective of the result, it's done.