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and chance and chose the child behind door number three. Well, not exactly luck and chance. We put our trust in a doctor at Yale’s fertil- ity center named Gabor Huszar, a charming Hungarian who is the director of Yale’s Sperm Physiology Lab and senior research scientist in the Department of Obstetrics, Gynecology & Reproductive Sci- ences. My ex didn’t feel comfortable using the catalogs and found the whole concept rather creepy, and the directed donors we asked turned us down for reasons I fully understand. That left adoption, which we had both ruled out, or accepting a life without children, which was not what we wanted. The first thing Dr. Huszar did, after greeting us SHOULD WE BYPASS THE SCIENTIST WITH THE HIGH IQ, THE SUCCESSFUL ENGINEER, THE HIGH-POWERED ATTORNEY IN FAVOR OF THE SENSITIVE ARTIST WITH BLUE EYES, CURLY HAIR, AND A HEART OF GOLD? and asking us a few questions, was to tell us exactly how his process worked. He radiated the authority imbued by the white lab coat, but he also possessed a kind of mystical presence, an aura that suggested access to deep reservoirs of knowledge from which the average person could never hope to drink. “You are going to let me choose,” he said, matter of factly, lean- ing back in his black leather chair and interlocking his long, bony fingers. After he spoke, the unspoken words hung heavily in the air; “I will play God.” At first, we were horrified. We would have no input in the pro- cess? No say in the selection? What parents in their right minds would agree to such a thing? But we did have input. Through a series of interviews, Dr. Huszar took in our input—our personali- ties, our preferences, our idiosyncrasies, and our values—and quietly assembled our profiles, so he could match them with the donor’s. And instead of creating anxiety by removing us from the selection process, he lifted a great weight that had been troubling us from the start: how could we know our choice was the right one? Should we bypass the scientist with the high IQ, the successful engineer, the high-powered attorney in favor of the sensitive artist with blue eyes, curly hair, and a heart of gold? Or should we take the other direction? All sales are final. No exchanges. No returns. The pres- sure was unbearable, because the biological clock was ticking. My ex was already 36 years old, and it often takes a year or two of trying. Giving up the right to choose felt more like relief than abdication, and putting our faith in Dr. Huszar, his experience, his acumen, his promise to pollenate with our best interests in mind, was ultimately easier than trusting ourselves. As the saying goes, the proof is in the pudding. My ex and I are blessed with two healthy, bright, amazing children. I got to experi- ence pregnancy with her, to take her to her doctor’s appointments, to see the fetuses on the ultrasound. I got to drive her to the hospital

and watch my kids make their first appearances. I got to make bottles and change diapers and rock my babies to sleep at night, to buy them books and read to them, to check their breath in the middle of the night. I’m still watching them grow up and carefully teaching them the principles I value. I got to and get to experience all the joys of father- hood, thanks to their “real father” whose name we are likely never to know. Whoever you are, whatever your name is—I am grateful. I am grateful, beyond words, for your gift.

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Fred Sanders is a freelance writer and the father of two boys. He resides in Connecticut.

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