Source Refinery 29
The doctor who performed my egg collection was a Nigerian man with a round face and a cheeky grin. I liked him immediately. Now he was waving a piece of paper in my face. On it was a description of the sperm donor I’d chosen; I needed to confirm the details before any fertilisation process could begin. Clad in nothing but a hospital gown, I dutifully looked it over, signed, and handed it back to him.