Why I Wrote ‘Desperately Seeking Semen’

The short of it.  I couldn’t not share what I now knew.  I didn’t plan on penning eighty thousand words, I just couldn’t stop writing.

After enduring a monumental meltdown as a newly single woman facing forty, I had to take matters into my own hands if motherhood was going to be on the cards for me.

It wasn’t about going against the forces of nature to make it happen, rather working with it.  It just meant the forces of nature were different than the one path I had assumed I’d go down with a fabulous six foot tall, intelligent being.

Having endured an eighteen month ‘get pregnant’ rollercoaster quest which included a failed plan to get back with my ex, three failed IUI attempts on the IVF train as well as some disastrous Tinder dating, I had to either inject myself with drugs to harvest my eggs or get creative and find another natural solution.

I decided for the latter and threw myself at the internet to rectify my semen quandary.  I soon found myself in the deep vortex of known sperm donor land or what I thought was the IVF underbelly. With further investigation, I realised I had landed upon my very own Willy Wonka cyber factory where there was a bevvy of real-life men happily giving away their sperm to women all around the globe.

So I hung up my hopes of trying to find the fantasy husband and father to be through online dating, and threw myself out there for the ones who were readily available and on the same page – literally! I couldn’t believe that there were a bunch of worthy men happy to skip all the relationship nonsense, especially the gay ones, and just hand over the key ingredient I needed to make a baby within my shrinking biological clock time frame.

I signed up to a few sperm donor sites and began perusing Facebook Groups then sat back and observed the post and forum interactions for a few months.  I was still very hesitant about proceeding down this path especially as I had stumbled onto some seedy sites which required me to weed out illegitimate profiles. It wasn’t until Adam Hooper, the FB group admin for Sperm Donation Australia connected with me answering all my questions that I finally felt at ease truly giving it a go.

When I was beyond frustrated with my dire situation and brave enough, I wrote to a few potential donors on the FB group and a couple of others on a paid site.

After conversing with a few fella’s I opted for one that I felt was compatible with my needs.  Not only was he over six feet tall with great physical features, more importantly he was available to work with my cycles, understood the donor process intimately, had a proven success record having assisted other women, had his own family, would sign legal documents outlining intention, wanted to be known to the future child, had undertaken genetic testing and counselling and could provide a recent bonafide sperm analysis proving he was highly fertile.

Before moving forward, we engaged in many messenger and Facetime chats as well as phone calls and photo sharing.  Once I felt ready and my fertile window aligned, I flew interstate to meet him in the flesh and proceed with the insemination.  Two weeks later, and to my absolute shock, a pregnancy test confirmed I was pregnant after our one and only attempt.

I knew that I was not infertile as I had been informed and am glad I went rogue carving out my own path. It was one that aligned with me physically, spiritually and financially.  While I am an advocate for this route and can honestly say I had a superb experience using the internet to secure a viable donor, I wholeheartedly believe this pathway needs to be thoroughly considered before being pursued. I believe it’s imperative to take the time to find the right donor and not swipe right on just anybody as not all sites, apps, solo donors and groups are created equal or perhaps have yours, or your future child’s best interests in mind.  This seemingly “rogue” route is primarily based on basic human trust and intention.  To navigate it safely and successfully, a little time investment pays off.  Ultimately, I believe this is about conceiving a healthy child first and foremost – not just landing any random man’s sperm to conceive.

Although I am now 42 and despite being only halfway through my pregnancy, I felt it was time critical to share this avenue publicly no matter my pregnancy outcome.

I learned so much and felt compelled to write a book to not only share what I did to become highly reproductive or reveal the ins and outs of this unconventional child making way but also to inform other healthy single women and same-sex lesbian couples in my predicament that they too can follow this alternative and highly successful path without spending thousands!  I also wanted to dispel the belief that IVF was the only option available out there.

The moment I opted to seek a sperm donor on what could be deemed as the wild west of the internet, a mental shift occurred.  I felt unequivocally empowered.  No longer was it just a hope for me to be a mother, it was probable I would be.  It was the best decision I’ve ever have made.

A huge thank you to the men out there that put themselves out there to assist us!

www.desperatelyseekingsemen.com

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https://twitter.com/DespSemen

www.hayleychapman.com

Surfing for Semen

I was thrilled when he called and said we were on for tomorrow.  So I jumped on a plane and headed to Queensland’s sunny Gold Coast.  My Latin lover was already there waiting and I couldn’t get there fast enough.  He’d scattered crimson rose petals all over the crisp white floor tile and on the white satin sheets that sparkled like diamonds on the freshly made bed. The curtains swayed slowly as the warm, salty, sea breeze wafted through the window on this balmy afternoon. I barely had a moment to breathe it all in before his head was between my legs.

Very softly, he told me to relax and then propped me up a little, then he inserted a clamp.  In that very instant, and with that ripping sound effect as loud as a thundercloud above, my charming Latin lover vanished, and I was left face taut and legs spread for my 60 odd-year-old IVF doctor.

While I was shocked back to reality, at least he was armed with the sperm of a sexy, tall, dark-haired, green-eyed, 26-year-old Hungarian hottie, that was about to be squirted deep inside my cervix.  

I was 40 years old, single and classed as socially infertile.  How did I get myself here?

I could say my thirties were the years of racking up lots of travel mileage points, Facebook friends, happy hours and hangovers. While these were easy to accrue, marriage proposals were not.

At 37 I found myself in a relationship that I’d hope would last forever.  It was the one that  I had all my chips on the table for as it was in the most promising best of my last ‘fertile window’ days.  While I had pinned my hopes on this being the relationship that would take me out of singledom for good, it unravelled over the following two years and I too became unhinged.  

As the big 4-0 approached I completely came undone spending each night blubbering into my pillow agonizing over how on earth I could create a family. I was in deep caca with the hands of that ticking biological clock.

Months off the heels of that window waster relationship, I jumped onto online dating sites in a gallant quest to meet the one.  All this did was waste more valuable time and keep me from pressing forward with my own plan. Not only did I have to dance around my true desire, dating was slow, required squeezing into an LBD for an entire night of discomfort as well as around my dates weekends without their kids.  

Urgh, if only I could make my own baby!!

Pondering that thought and with a little further investigation I realized I actually might be able to and tottered off to an IVF clinic.  

Although unfortunately, it wasn’t surprising, the few IUI attempts I underwent all failed. The Hungarian hottie didn’t stick nor did the handsome blue-eyed chiro the month before.  I now either had to pull out the IVF big guns and harvest my eggs or get creative and find another solution.  I decided for the latter and threw myself at Dr. Google for alternatives.  When I first landed on a site for known sperm donors I thought I had stumbled onto the IVF underbelly. I was too fearful to take a really good peek around in case I found myself in some weird porn or body parts trafficking ring.  Knowing my luck, I’d have a SWAT team parachuting out of the skies and smashing down my doors within minutes.  

Hang on! Courageous, bulked up men in uniform landing on my doorstep in just a few minutes?!  Hmmm…..now there’s a thought!

Having scrutinized this path for a year and a half, the idea of finally heading in this direction had now penetrated me deeply and it didn’t seem so aberrant. In fact, using semen from someone that required no relationship labour, I could actually check out in the flesh and have a coffee with made insanely good sense.  So, I decided to take the plunge and see what it was all about.  With a tap on my keypad, white light began beaming out of my monitor and Beethoven’s fourth movement from his Fifth Symphony masterpiece rang out. Low and behold, before my eyes were dozens of men from all over the world happily offering their free baby batter to wannabe mamas.

  I took to a couple of sites sharing my woes hoping to catch a fella.  

“Single, 40-year-old, adrenal fatigued, career-focused woman who missed the

‘memo for motherhood’ seeks a strapping young lad’s fertile tadpoles”

“Must be tall, intellectual type, no chromosomal abnormalities, have top-notch winning swimmers and be within close travel distance.”

After just a couple of months and a few discarded swimmers due to not meeting the legal requirements, I got an agile one on the hook that fit my criteria.  He was actually a fellow middle-aged man whose uberous sperm could impregnate a nation.  A week later he handed me a bucket full of fresh swimmers that I launched as far into my uterus as I could.

The race upstream had begun.  I relaxed with my feet up on the wall hoping that one was limber enough to navigate my tightly knotted body’s ‘non-yoga-ish’ innards.

Then it was an agonizing two-week wait for the results to see if there was one lucky winner from the ‘great anti-gravity’ swim.  When Aunty Flo didn’t show up to her monthly meeting, it was apparent that the following day it was time to perform a home pregnancy test.  Another five nail-biting minutes later, it was finally revealed that one speedy tadpole had indeed been the victor.

So now I’m a middle-aged, single mother to be and I couldn’t be happier.  When I think to myself how did I get myself here?  Well, I stayed on my imperfect life path, that’s how.

www.desperatelyseekingsemen.com

Image Credit:  Pixabay