Chapter 3 - THE FERTILITY FILE
The clinic had closed four years earlier.
Parker Reproductive Center.
No relation to us despite the name.
The physician who ran it, Dr. Nathan Parker, had retired after a licensing investigation involving documentation failures.
That fact had nothing to do with our treatment on its own.
But now it mattered.
Archived medical records existed.
Requests took time.
Identity verification.
Retention procedures.
Legal involvement.
Eventually, mine arrived.
Treatment dates.
Medication.
Ultrasounds.
IUI procedure.
Everything looked normal.
Then Michael’s file arrived.
His sample had been delivered at 8:12 a.m.
Processed by 8:49.
One handwritten note:
Severe post-wash motility reduction.
Another:
Physician notified.
Then:
Backup specimen authorized.
I stared.
“What backup?”
Michael sat beside me.
“I never authorized a donor.”
Neither had I.
The insemination record listed a specimen code instead of Michael’s name.
TP-441.
My father’s initials were Thomas Parker.
Coincidence?
Maybe.
Then we searched older family records.
Dad had participated in a fertility-and-cardiovascular research study years before his death.
At Parker Reproductive Center.
He provided semen samples as part of a study examining associations between male fertility markers and cardiac conditions.
That was why a stored DNA sample existed later for research comparison.
Suddenly the impossible became medically possible.
My father’s reproductive sample had been stored at the same clinic where I received fertility treatment.
I felt sick.
But possibility was not proof.
We needed consent forms.
Dad’s research consent allowed storage for specified research.
It did not authorize reproductive use.
At least not in the version we obtained.
Then came a note written by Dr. Parker.
Family requests genetically related backup if husband sample fails.
Family.
Who?
Michael?
Me?
My parents?
The record did not say.
Then one name appeared:
M. Parker contacted.
Margaret Parker.
May you like
My mother.
My hands went cold.
