We were really lucky to get a family doctor here. There’s a 2+ year waiting list for a gp here, and I managed to circumvent it by hearing a random interview and then google-stalking a clinic and taking full advantage of my mother (ok, technically it’s my father) tongue: French. She’s, well, a doctor, a pretty average one, but she’s nice. Her receptionist is awesome. It’s lovely to have other people in our ordinary lives who speak french to Maren and Nate, ’cause I’m pretty sure she’s convinced I’m speaking a crazy, made up language to her. Outside validation is key. 
The clinic here requested my medical records from Yellowknife, and then, to my surprise, the receptionist handed me a thick packet the other day. It was my medical records. In her words, “They’re your records. I put all the data into our system, and *I* don’t need these!” Reading through them was really interesting, especially the medical take on Maren’s birth (more than a little skewed!).
And then I got to a huge pile of papers that accumulated with our donor sperm process. I’m totally flabbergasted, and a little irritated. I had NO idea what the numbers were on our donor. I mean, we carefully pored over profiles, paid for extended profiles, assured ourselves we had a donor with ID release, etc, etc. We finally settled on donor 9898. We bought some vials, had to make a few special requests in order to get the vials to Yellowknife before the liquid nitrogen ran out in the tank, bla, bla, it was a bit of a gong show.
There was all sorts of stress trying to get the timing right. There were a few sweaty bike rides to the amazing gp’s office for insemination during a snatched work break. Lots more stress as we waited for results. And, of course, ultimately all of our cycles failed. I put it off to my stress levels, to the fact that frozen sperm isn’t as “potent” as fresh sperm, and maybe even just to the fact that donor 9898 and I weren’t compatible. As it turns out, while I’m sure those things were factors, donor 9898 actually has pretty cruddy sperm.
I mean, those numbers could certainly be worse, and I’m not an expert on what they should be, and I’m sure there are minimum requirements and obviously his samples met those requirements, but I’m a little irritated. 40% motility!? Seriously, 40%!? The reference range for motility is >50%. Now I’m extra curious if anyone has had success with this donor! (I’m sure some have, especially because he was sold out for a period of time, but still, I’m curious as to numbers)
His count numbers look high, but they’re calculated using different measurements than the lab used for J’s analyses, so I have no clear reference range for them. Obviously a super count with average motility is better than a mediocre count with stupendous motility, but still.
Jonathan’s sperm has every possible problem, but even his motility hovers around 20%. And we were told that the only way for him to biologically be a father was through IVF with ICSI, ’cause his sperm would otherwise just not cut it. The difference between 20% and 40% seems pretty minimal, if you ask me. Both would cause you to fail any academic testing!
In the end, we’re both so insanely glad that the sperm bank donor didn’t work out. Donor 9898 is probably a really neat guy, but I think there’s a lot more value in being able to talk about our known donor in a way that we would never be able to talk about 9898.
Words to the wise though, if you’re using sperm from a bank, you should request to see copies of the accompanying paperwork. And random note: they are tested for diseases you’ve never even heard of. Pages and pages and pages…
