She grabbed a framed picture from her desk and handed it to me. A handsome dark-skinned man stared back at me. He was next to Dr. Kamara somewhere wooded, and a small tent was set up behind them. Sunglasses and a hat didn’t allow me to see his entire face, but he had an amazing smile.
“He loves to camp,” she told me.
“Something many kids would enjoy,” I said, looking at the picture one more time and then handing it back to her.
“He wants us to get a sperm donor,” she said, putting the picture back on her desk.
“You don’t want to?” I asked.
“The idea of using DNA from someone we’ve never met seems cold and frigid to me. I would like my baby to be conceived as naturally as possible.”
“That may not be as easy as it sounds,” I said.
“I know,” she agreed, and then took a sip of her coffee.