I always thought I’d use “baby daddy” as a term of endearment.

I know for some situations the bearer of that seed might not be so significant. Maybe they conceived by accident, as a mistake, through less than ideal or absolutely terrible circumstances. But for me, I always knew it would be a conscious decision made out of love. I honestly think it would be the highest honor I could give a man I love.

Over the past year I’ve had to mourn the idea that’s never going to happen. I never came across anyone to partner up with and go half on a baby with, someone so down for you that you create life—together. I’ve grieved the fact I have to let this idea go. I’ve processed it so I can move onto the new phase that is required of me.

This is THE MOST calculated decision I’ve made in my entire life.

It’s the decision of all decisions…

And I’ve decided to go with someone completely anonymous.

I’m gonna stare at this kid and wonder if all the things I don’t recognize in myself are from him.

That part is a trip to me.

I wonder if you got that from your dad…

Even “dad” feels like it should be written with quotes. It feels so cold in context. He’s not really a dad, he’s a donor who provided 23 chromosomes to match my own 23. He is literally a donor. I’ve picked the father of my child from a search engine that provided the best match based on my filters,

I’m still trippin this kid will only be half of me.

Half me. Half mystery.

Sounds like what my next blog should be called.