A Mother's Worry
“El Guapo! Do you know any women who had artificial insemination?”
Que? Um……Si. I know one.
I was watching TV on the couch and mi madre was yelling from the kitchen. I wasn’t even really paying attention while answering her. This is when I get into trouble with her, when I answer things or say things when I’m not paying attention.
(Ten minute lag)
“El Guapo! Was this girl, the one that went to the sperm bank, could she not find a man?”
I don’t know mama. I don’t think it was a problem of finding men. It was finding one that she wanted around. I didn’t ask too many questions. It’s personal.
By this point, I was fully alert. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that mi madre had just uttered the word “sperm” for the first time in my life. Whatever reason, I was wondering what was going on in that little bunned up head of mi madre’s…
She walked out of the kitchen drying her hands with a dish rag and a somewhat stained orange apron.
“That artificial insemination. It’s dangerous.”
Why? I think they’ve been doing it for a while.
Right after I uttered those words I shuddered a little bit because I knew the continuation of this conversation would only result in mi madre having to say “sperm” again.
“How do they pick the sperm they want?”
I think they have a book of sperm donors. Like a catalog.
“Like a Sears catalog?”
Yeah, a Sears catalog full of sperm donors. It shows all their stats, pictures or whatever. I don’t know. I’ve never looked for a sperm donor.
“El Guapo, it’s dangerous. Mira. Sperm banks, they usually get the sperm from the area where they’re located. So, let’s say one gringo goes in there to sell some sperm. He’s tall, blonde, muscular, smart, well educated, comes from a nice family and has blue eyes. All the women see this man in the Sears catalog and want his sperm. So, in one month, there have been 10 women who used this man’s sperm. In one year, maybe 100. If all these women are from the same area, then maybe half of them will raise their kids here. If they got the sperm in the same year, then their children could maybe go to the same school and grow up together. Maybe they will be friends. Maybe they will date. Maybe they will marry. Then what? Then the world will be full of brothers marrying sisters! It’s very dangerous. Very dangerous!”
I sat there looking at mi madre with the worried look on her face.
“Be sure to tell that friend of yours to tell her child to be careful when dating. You don’t want them to accidentally marry a brother or a sister. This is very important! Tell me that you’ll tell her.”
I’ll tell her mama. I’ll tell her.