I look over at Josh, and he shrugs at me and shakes his head.
“When you aren’t sexually intimate with your donor, the FDA requires a six-month quarantine. The anonymous donor sperm has already gone through the quarantine process, but if you two aren’t sexually intimate then the six-month quarantine is required,” Dr. Ingraham explains.
I stare at the doctor. We have to wait six months? I can’t think of anything to say, I can only think…six months?
I can feel Josh looking at me, but I’m too embarrassed to look back. It has to be obvious to him that I told the doctor that he was my partner, not just a guy I happen to know and convinced to give a donation. He must think I’m such a creep.
“We’re friends,” says Josh.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“With benefits, is what I meant to say. Friends with benefits.”
Both of my eyes fly open and I glance over at Josh. He gives me a smile that says, “come on, play with me” and slowly nods his head.
“Yup.” I nod in time with Josh. “That’s right. Josh and I just had sex before we got here. Three times. And once again when we got here in that slightly dirty bathroom in the lobby. You know, ’cause that’s what we do. Have lots and lots of sex.” I nod again. “Because we are two, physically intimate friends, doing the sex.”
We are two, physically intimate friends, doing the sex.
Josh’s eyes go wide and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
I can’t look at him when his lips quiver and his eyes light up like that.
I turn back to Dr. Ingraham.
He stares at me with a slightly bemused and sort of disturbed expression on his face. That’s right. I disturbed a doctor that trained as a gynecologist and has probably seen and heard some of the weirdest stuff on the planet. His round face is red and he clears his throat.
I watch as he pushes aside a pile of manila files to reveal his desk phone. He picks up the receiver and hits a few numbers.
Both Josh and I sit silently and watch Dr. Ingraham hold the phone against his ear. Finally, a woman on the other end picks up.
Dr. Ingraham gives me a polite smile.
Oh no. We’ve broken some sort of IVF law and we’re about to be kicked out of the practice.
“Yes. Dr. Ingraham here.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. What is he going to say?
“Mhmm. Yes. Please send someone to clean the lobby bathroom.”
What? I open my eyes.
“Yes. Apparently, it’s slightly dirty.”
Josh makes a choking noise and I look over at him. He’s desperately trying not to laugh.
Jeez. Jeez.
I mock kick his ankle and he grins at me and wiggles his eyebrows.
Dr. Ingraham sets the phone back down and looks at us both. I school my expression.
“Now, where were we?”
“Sperm collection,” Josh says.
Dr. Ingraham frowns. “You were never turned down at a high school dance, right?”
“Uhhh…” Josh looks over at me like it’s a trick question. I shake my head.
“No?” he says.
“Darn. Every time. That’s what they say every time.”
Josh looks over at me with a confused expression. I shake my head, not able to explain that the good doctor has a real hang-up on sperm quality and high school dances.
Dr. Ingraham abruptly stands.
I snap to attention.
“Well, let’s get to it then. Gemma, you’re first, we’re doing an ultrasound to see what’s under the hood. Then Josh’ll do his part.”
When Dr. Ingraham said “ultrasound” I thought he meant the kind where you squirt some goop, rub a little device over your abdomen, then watch some blurry pictures show up on a screen.
Ultrasound. No big deal.
That’s not what he meant.
That’s not what he meant at all.
I glance over at Josh. He’s sitting in a plastic chair next to the head of the freezing cold medical table my bare butt is plastered on.
I’m in a little paper gown, my legs are up in the stirrups.
Because…yeah.
When Dr. Ingraham asked if I wanted Josh to be there for the ultrasound, I said sure. Because an ultrasound is no big deal.
Josh doesn’t look at me. In fact, I don’t think he could turn his head if he wanted to. The lights of the ultrasound room are dim. There’s a tray with a mobile computer screen on it turned toward us. Dr. Ingraham is in his long white coat and blue rubber gloves.
Josh watches him with an expression that I can only describe as growing dismay, possibly horror.
Dr. Ingraham holds up the ultrasound device. It looks, okay fine, it looks just like the dildo that my sister’s maid of honor brought as a gag gift to Leah’s bachelorette party. Because…surprise! It’s a transvaginal ultrasound.