After what seemed like a decennia of waiting, her name was finally called by the receptionist.

"Moira King? The doctor is ready to see you now."

With a nod and a nervous sigh, she made her way over to the white door that had a nameplate on it with 'Aanya Patel'.

Before she could even knock, however, the door swung open, revealing a tall woman with dark hair and warm eyes. She stepped aside and gestured for Moira to come in, reaching for her hand at the same time.

"You must be Miss King, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." She said, giving her a firm hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, and please call me Moira."

Dr. Patel nodded and poured them both a cup of tea, retreating behind her desk and grabbing a bunch of papers in the process. Moira was seated opposite her, patiently waiting for her to speak.

"Now before we start, I'd like to explain the steps to you." She said, and in the two hours that followed, a tubal patency test was performed as well as screening tests for blood group, HIV, hepatitis B & C, syphilis and gonorrhoea.

In addition, she had screening to ensure that she was immune to Rubella (German Measles) and a full blood count was carried out. Lastly, her hormone profile was assessed to determine any hormonal imbalance.

"Alright, well that's about it for today." Dr. Patel finalised, writing down some additional notes and placing a recipe for fertility drugs in front of Moira, to boost egg production.

"The results will be coming in tomorrow but after viewing your medical record, I've taken the liberty to select a few suitable donors already." Dr. Patel handed Moira a thick folder, "If you don't see any potential in these, we'll pick out some others when your results come in."

Moira thanked the doctor, put the folder in her purse and made her way back to the car.

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Once she got home, exhaustion washed over her in tidal waves. Who knew that spending time at the doctors' could be so tiring?

After changing into her pyjamas and grabbing something to drink, she sat down on her couch and began reading the folder.

She emitted a short chuckle when seeing how many pages the folder contained.

'A few suitable donors' Dr. Patel had said. This did not contain 'a few'. Or 84 donors didn't count as 'a few' in her book, anyway. But then again, it could've been worse.

As she spent time flipping through the pages, none of the candidates stood out to her. They were either too monotonous, too business-like, too ordinary or weirdly eager to donate their love juice to an anonymous woman. She was sick of all the same picture perfect profiles and nearly skipped the last page when she saw she missed it.

"Please let this one be a little more interesting," she muttered to herself.

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HES-81650

01/02/1983

London, England

English

English

English

6'0

187ibs

Green

Brown

AB

Passed

Passed

84/100

96/100

99/100

98/100

Mild form of asthma

Stubborn, cheeky, honest, loyal, loving, polite.

writing, singing, going on road trips, travelling, performing, jamming, painting, photography, reading.

Tennis and football.

Any kind of takeout.

Dark colors

Dog

Likes Rock, Pop and Indie, Coldplay, The Beatles and The Rolling Stones in particular. And is Bones' number #1 fan.

Patient has 37 tattoos, one earring in his right ear, does not smoke and has never done drugs.

Patient is willing to be brought in contact with the recipient if said recipient wishes to.

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Her eyes widened as the corners of her mouth curled upwards.

Like all the other donors, this one -too- was the complete opposite of her. Though in an entirely different way. He seemed carefree, musically creative, spirited and maybe a little rebellious. Which was all she ever wanted- but nothing she'd ever be. And it was fine, that way.

Moira felt close to enchanted by his profile, and was sure that even tomorrow or in 20 years time, she'd feel the same; making him the perfect candidate. And for the lack of a better description; her fingers had been tingling since opening the folder, and this man was the magic they needed.

The decision was more than easy to make, and she did not doubt herself once. Tricky, some might think. Especially if you know what they say: never bet all your money one horse.

But Moira was sure of it.

Heaving a sigh, she threw the folder aside and leaned back into the cushions -reminding herself that all that was left to do now, was call Dr. Patel to finalise her choice. She seriously doubted she'd change her mind, but just in case, she'd postpone making the call until tomorrow morning.

Gazing, around her apartment, she smiled in content -knowing that this would be the perfect place to raise a child. She'd bought her apartment in the Upper West Side of New York City six years ago. At 22 years of age, it was her first major expense.

During the house-hunting search, two apartments in the same building had caught her attention. The first, being a penthouse with a decent price that could home an entire family. The second; a two-story apartment with a more affordable price.

But it was the latter that she'd hopelessly fallen in love with. The first floor was an entire open concept with high ceilings and large windows, only the kitchen, dining room and the room next to the staircase were separated with walls. The second floor consisted of four bedrooms, three bathrooms and two extra rooms, all including a spectacular view of either Central Park, or Manhattan. There were two spacious balconies, one belonged to the master bedroom and the other connected with the kitchen so that it could be used as an extra dining space when the weather allowed her to.

As an interior designer, she was obligated to be good at her job. But as it turned out, designing and furnishing your own place was more complicated than previously expected. Moira had spent the next four months working the apartment to perfection, with no extra help. She felt it would be less of a self-made creation if she hired a bunch of workmen. And besides, who can you trust more to do the job right than yourself?

One of the extra rooms was turned into a library, one bedroom into a home office, another into her own bedroom, two into guest bedrooms and the last was going to be used as an storage room.

Until now.

In a matter of days, Moira had transformed the once messy space into a stylish nursery: cream walls and curtains that gave of a vibrant, warm vibe, a vintage mahogany crib, changing table and dresser, an old chesterfield chair with a cashmere blanket and four sepia posters of African animals.

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The following morning, Moira woke up to the ringing of a phone, her phone. As it appeared, she'd overslept and wasted half a day, making it 2pm in the afternoon.

The insistent caller, who turned out to be Dr. Patel, informed her on the positive results of the tests they had performed the previous day. In return, Moira told her about the chosen donor.

The doctor was ecstatic.

Apparently, he was the exact person she'd had in mind for her. Though Moira found that hard to believe, seeing as there were so many other men. They made an appointment for that coming Monday, to perform blood and urine tests and find out when she'd be at her most fertile. An ultrasound scanning would also be carried out, to ensure that no more than two mature eggs were about to ovulate.

One baby would be enough for now.

The donated sperm would be inserted into the womb in a week, using a procedure called intrauterine insemination (IUI). The doctor had told her the procedure was normally painless, although a small proportion of women may experience temporary, menstrual-like cramping.

Bursting with excitement, Moira crawled out of bed, cooked up some well-needed brunch and made a mental note to call her mother later, to update her on the recent developments.