POV | I don't know what to do with my late husband's sperm

By Now or Never contributor Robin Summerfield

I'm paying $300 a year to store something I should probably get rid of: my late husband's sperm.

In 2011, just after Father's Day, my husband Mike was diagnosed with stage four cancer. Those weeks right after his diagnosis were filled with appointments, while coming to grips with his diagnosis and all the emotion surrounding it. We also found out that the chemotherapy was going to kill his sperm.

So in that blur of those first few weeks, we made an appointment with a fertility doctor. Mike went to the sperm bank and made a deposit.

We had hope that the chemo would work. But realistically we knew from the diagnosis that Mike's story was going to end — and our dream of having a bigger family was not going to come true. But despite that, I've always held onto the hope that I would have a second baby.

For four years, Mike went through a bunch of treatments. He died three years ago.

But his sperm still lives. It sits there in this clinic on Portage Avenue in Winnipeg. And it kind of haunts me because it represents this hope I had for a family — a bigger family.

And it also feels kind of like the last vestiges of Mike. It's the last thing he's left behind. It's a weird thing to have the sperm of your dead husband sitting out there kind of waiting for you. I'll be driving down Portage Avenue and as a joke I'll point up to the the building — Heartland Fertility — and say "Mike's up there!" And it's a little bit of a running joke. It's taunting me. It is taunting me about the future I'm not going to have... and it's also costing me $300 a year.

I've now spent almost $2000 on this sperm. And I'm wondering, is it worth it?

A year ago, the bill came due and I thought: "OK here's my decision. I'm going to not pay the bill and they're going to throw the sperm out." Because that's what people do when you don't pay your bills. They throw the stuff out. That's what I assumed. I was wrong. I got another bill. It was for two years of storage. A $600 bill.

I paid the bill. So the sperm is still there. Here I am, pushing 49, and I'm not going to use the sperm — ever — but I can't seem to let it go. 

I have a 7-year-old son — Mike's son, our son. He is desperate for a baby brother or sister. This is an ongoing conversation that he just throws into the mix here and there every day. And every time he brings it up I feel this pang of guilt. I feel this pang of guilt that I wasn't able to give him the sibling that he wanted. He doesn't know about the sperm. (That's a little above his pay grade.) But if he did he would be begging me to use it.

It's really about not being able to let go of Mike. Of our hope for family and my hope to give Will a sibling. I'm going to get this bill in August again and I don't know what I'm going to do. I could phone the clinic today and say "please get rid of my sperm. I don't want it anymore." I really don't know what to do.

What would you do?

This story has been edited for clarity and length. To hear Robin's story, click the 'listen' button above.