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Tag Archives: donor eggs

Perspective from an egg donor

30 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by in Donor Eggs, Guest Post, IVF, Pregnancy

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I’m sitting in a coffee shop across from a woman I haven’t seen in 25 years and I’m struggling to hold back tears. This woman was my best friend in 5th grade but we lost touch in high school as interests and friend groups changed and life moved on. We reconnected through Facebook several years back and one day while I was pregnant with my boys I was randomly scrolling and noticed a post where she mentioned her egg donation. My jaw hit the floor. I sat, stunned, for several minutes trying to manage my thoughts and feelings and I finally just wrote to her and laid it out. I told her I was pregnant through egg donation. I thanked her on behalf of the women she donated to. I told her she was a hero to me. And I had a million questions but I didn’t want to to pry. But here was a real live person who could give me some insight into the mystery woman who was always in my thoughts, the anonymous woman had donated the eggs that let me have my babies.

Last month I finally had the chance to sit down with my friend and hear her story. It moved me to tears. And this childhood friend, my hero, has agreed to share her story with us. So thank you B, for everything.

Why did you decide to donate?

I never wanted kids.  And, spoiler alert, I still don’t.

But my friend E did.  Desperately.  And it wasn’t happening.

So that’s how my donor adventure started.  Just kinda exploring the options, a little bit on behalf of my friend, but mostly because she made me aware of the need out there with the nights of heartbreak and tears and hugs and feeling utterly helpless to do anything for someone who meant the world to me. And when she got pregnant and clearly didn’t need me and my eggs, I thought, well, everyone has an E in their lives.  So even though SHE didn’t need me anymore, someone’s E did.  So I would do it for them.

And I won’t lie. The money was nice too.  I’m no saint. I’m not sure I would have been altruistic enough to do six rounds of daily shots and blood draws and ultrasound wands up my junk and days off work on behalf of a multitude of strangers if I hadn’t been getting a nice wad of cash for it.

But it started off with wanting to help.

What was your donation experience like?

It’s been a while now.  I’m 41 and the last time I donated was when I was 33.  But I remember in the beginning, lots of tests.  Family histories, and forms, and psych tests, and blood tests, and financial disclosures, and talking to my boyfriend (now husband) to see if he was cool with this, and then more forms, and more tests.  They vet the crap out of donors, or at least the place where I donated did.

Beyond that I remember bruised thighs and tummy from all of the injections. I remember daily blood draws, to the point where I got track marks on my arms and I was afraid people would think I was an addict.  I remember getting really intimate with the transvaginal ultrasound wand –was that daily too?  I feel like near the end of each cycle it was–and how I stopped caring who got all up in my junk cause pretty much the entire world had seen it at that point.  I remember the nurse drawing a target on my butt for the “trigger” shot, so my husband would know where to jab me—the one shot I didn’t do myself.  I remember daily calls with the nurse coordinator, to let me know my hormone levels and how to adjust my shot doses the next day. I’m not sure if the recipients got calls too….I know everyone’s cycles had to be synced up to some degree, but I honestly don’t know much about the recipient side of that, whether they got the info on my progress or not and how that effected whatever process they had.  I remember feeling “puffy” as I got close to the end of each cycle.  My husband swears you couldn’t tell from looking at me, but I felt like I was wearing a weird heavy water balloon in my tummy. Like I ate too much, but it wasn’t my stomach.

I remember sitting in the waiting room of the clinic on retrieval days. I looked around at the other women there and I felt guilty. I assumed they were women who were trying so hard to get pregnant. I remember crying for them as I waited for my retrieval, and blaming it on the hormones.

The retrieval itself was under anesthesia, so all I remember about that is counting backwards. But every time, my husband said the first thing I asked when I woke up was how many eggs there were. And because I was coming out of anesthesia, I would immediately forget and ask again. And again. And asking if it was ok, if it was enough. Was that a good number? Is that enough? How many eggs? Is that good? How many?

Do you think about the families you donated to?

I do sometimes. Not as much now as when I was going through it, but they cross my mind. But honestly it was a bit like donating blood—once those eggs left my body, they weren’t mine anymore. They weren’t connected to me. Who they went to and what happened to them after that wasn’t part of my experience.

I did six cycles, and after my first round, they classified me as what they called a “high yield” donor, so each cycle after that was split among three women. So that’s sixteen possibilities. The clinic that I donated at won’t tell the donors anything about what happens with the eggs, not even if it was successful or not. And honestly, that isn’t a bad thing in my opinion. They said it was because when they did tell donors, they would get upset and depressed if it didn’t work out. So it is nice in a way to still be able to think of it as 16 possibilities, rather than knowing that for some of them it still didn’t happen. That would upset me.

There was one family that I still think of a bit more than the others. A little while after my last round of donation, I got a package from the coordinating nurse/clinic. I had no idea what it was. But when I opened it, it was from one of the women who received my eggs. Inside was a package with a little handmade neckwarmer filled with rice and some stationary and a card. Which I still have. And which still makes me tear up whenever I think about it, even as I type this. It said “Thank you for helping us make our family.”

That makes it more real for me. Before I got that package, it was just something I did and it wasn’t really connected to real people. But that card made it real for me. Made HER real for me. This woman whose cycle was once synced up with mine, and who received this donation from me, whose family I weirdly became a part of in a roundabout sort of way. Yeah, that got me. It still gets me. And holy shit (am I allowed to curse here?) do I hope it worked for her. I hope it worked for everyone, but damn me I really hope it worked for her.

Would you ever want to meet the donor families?

I wouldn’t object to meeting them if they wanted to meet me I suppose. But honestly I am mostly…unconnected to that.

I don’t have a burning desire to meet the children. Because they aren’t MY children.  Not in any way that means anything to me. They have a bit of my biology, but so does that guy who was in a car accident and got some of the blood that I donated.  I know it isn’t really the same, but it is to me a bit. I didn’t carry them. I didn’t get excited over seeing a heartbeat in their ultrasounds. I didn’t go through the pain of childbirth. I didn’t feed them or tuck them into bed or yell at them to do their damn homework.  Their mom did. I am not their mom.

But I would understand if they were curious about me and wanted to meet me.  And I would be ok with that I think. Although I would be afraid they would be disappointed. I am utterly ordinary.

Are you glad you did it?

Yes.  Without hesitation, yes. There has never been a moment of regret, even in the cramping and not so pleasant aftermath of retrieval.  And there never will be.

I gave 16 women a chance to have a family and I only wish it had been more, that I could have done more.

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To tell or not to tell?

28 Friday Apr 2017

Posted by in Donor Eggs, IVF

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I follow a blog by a women who has adult, donor conceived children. I found her when I was researching about donor eggs and her perspective and thoughtful insight helped me to make the difficult choices that lead me to the creation of my family.

She recently put out a post about whether or not you should tell you donor conceived children the truth about their biological origin. As you know from reading my blog I strongly believe that secrets are toxic and that we owe it to our children to tell them where they came from, and not least because it shows them how much they were wanted. BUT, it’s so painful to go back to that place of fear and sadness and loss. It’s so scary to expose that tender underbelly of longing, especially when we don’t know how they’ll react. But it’s so necessary.

The recent post was about a new booklet to help the parents of donor conceived children navigate the difficult conversations and emotional turmoil involved with telling. Here are a few quotes from her post, which I believe are quotes from the booklet.

As with all family stories, in the end it is not so much about what has happened but the way we are able to make sense of it that leads to being able to integrate it into part of who we are. If the story you tell your child is coherent and rings true (probably because of the emotion that accompanies it) it will be much easier for your child to take in and sooner or later see your perspective, alongside managing their own feelings.

Feelings of loss or confusion can come and go over the weeks, months and years for your children as well as for you. Sometimes they may feel fine and at other times they may not. Donor conceived adults may need independent counselling – somewhere they can express themselves completely honestly and confidentially – either in the first weeks after being told or sometime down the line. Your support of their need for this is likely to be welcomed.

Deciding to ‘tell’ is not without risk or anxiety, but many worthwhile things in life involve some risk-taking. After all, we grow as people as a result of making courageous choices. There is much to gain for everyone.”

I would encourage anyone with donor conceived children to get this booklet (I will as soon as it’s available!) and to follow the blog Olivia’s View.

Here is a copy of the recent blog post referenced above.

**EDIT – Shortly after I posted a got a comment from Olivia with additional information and resources. I copied it here for those who avoid the comment section (usually a savvy internet move, although not a problem in this space, thankfully).

Hi. this is Olivia from Olivia’s View. Thank you so much for quoting the section of Telling and Talking 17+ that I posted on my blog recently. I should add for your readers that THIS booklet is really intended for parents of donor conceived adults (over 17 year olds) who have not yet ‘told’ their children. I have also written Telling and Talking booklets for parents of 0 – 7, 8 – 11 and 12 – 16 year olds. They can all be downloaded for a small fee or bought in hard copy from DC Network
https://www.dcnetwork.org/catalog/books-and-pdfs

All the booklets are for parents and are supportive of ‘telling’ giving reasons why this is important plus practical guidance on timing and language to use. They are all illustrated with stories from real donor conception families.

 

And just like that, I melted.

24 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by in Donor Eggs, fear

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When we were considering using donor eggs I had a lot of questions. Would I love a DE child like I would a bio baby? Would that child love me as if I were a “real” mother? Would my parents and extended family view my children differently because they’re from DE?

This weekend my parents came to visit. We had told the boys they were coming and so when they finally showed up the boys were in a frenzy to see them. My parents were mobbed when they walked in – hugs and kisses and “I miss you” and “Nana and Papa home!”. My mom was on her knees with the boys wrapped in her arms and they were covering her with kisses when Ro said “Why Nana cry? Nana sad?” and I realized my mom was crying. She was so happy to she them she was crying. No doubt that those are her grandchildren and she doesn’t give a flip where the original cells came from.

Fast forward to last night – Z woke up wet at 1:30 am so I went in to change him. After I’d changed him and settled him back in bed I bent down to kiss his forehead and he wrapped his chubby little arms around my neck and said “Tank you mama. I love you.” That was the first ever unsolicited “I love you” from either of my boys, and just like that I melted. Every fear that I still secretly held deep in my heart evaporated. Every shot was worth it, every tear.

Yes, I love them for exactly who they are and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Yes, they love me.

No, my parents love them and their origins are irrelevant to the depth and intensity of that love.

Yes, I am their mother. I am a mother. I am a “real” mother.

Finally.

Guest post from another mom of donor conceived twins

08 Thursday Dec 2016

Posted by in Donor Eggs, Guest Post, pregnant after infertility, Uncategorized

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Recently, another mother of donor conceived twins commented on one of my posts, and her story was so moving to me that I wanted to share it with you (with her permission). In particular, it was a relief for me to hear from a mother who has both a bio child and donor conceived children, as that’s a perspective I’ll never have. I thought you all might like to hear another perspective from a mom who’s been there.

Thank you Kelly, for sharing your incredible story with us.

I have a biological son who is now 19; I had him when I was 22 with my first husband. I developed secondary infertility, possibly due to endometriosis or due to the severe thyroid problems I developed with my first son, or some combination thereof. The end result is that I was never able to get pregnant again.

My first husband and I eventually split, and my current husband and I eventually got married. We got engaged knowing that I had infertility issues and we stopped using any protection during the year of our engagement so that we could go into medical treatment right after our wedding (but always hoping for that happy OOPS! – clearly that never materialized). We started off with 3 months of Clomid – nothing. Then 3 rounds of Clomid assisted IUI’s – nothing. Then 4 rounds of OE IVF – nothing.

When we first started, I had initially said that I wouldn’t consider using donor eggs, that if we got through our OE IVF, we would call it good and move on. Except… I couldn’t. I knew I wasn’t ready to give up, and my husband, bless his heart, got right on board with it (the gut wrenching grief-from-the bottom-of my soul crying when we got the last negative call from the clinic may have made it an easy decision for him). We looked at both donor embryos (our clinic has an amazing embryo program with a money back guarantee if you don’t get pregnant in 3 attempts and has an 80% success rate) and donor eggs. However, my hubby really wanted that genetic connection, especially since I would still be carrying them. So, we moved forward with the DE.

I chose a donor purely on her physical attributes. I wanted someone with dark hair and eyes like me, and I wanted her to be tall, because I am really tall. I didn’t care about anything else, I just wanted to babies to at least be able to pass as mine. My husband’s sole request was that she be a proven donor.

Our fresh round failed, and at that point, I became convinced the issue was my uterus and not the eggs. I fell into a pretty heavy despair. My RE did a endometrial scratch, we did our transfer, and then I went back to work and promptly let it all go because I knew, without a doubt, that it would not work. Imagine my surprise when I got pregnant on that frozen round with our twin boys. I knew the very next day that something was different, but I refused to get my hopes up. I took a digital pregnancy test 8 days after the transfer and it immediately came up positive. It was so fast I didn’t even have time to pull my pants up. I literally set the test on the counter, stood up, and there it was – “PREGNANT”. At 11dp5dt my beta was 997, and my 2nd beta was over 2000. We knew we were having twins from that first test.

Having had a bio child and now 2 donor children, I am in a position to say that I don’t love my bio-son any more than I do my Twinks. They all came from me, and were all desperately wanted and loved.

As for looks…we got one who is my husband’s mini-me, from his looks to his temperament. And my husband and the donor both have dark hair, hubby has hazel-brown eyes, donor had brown eyes… and we got one baby who is blond and blue-eyed! We weren’t expecting that at all, lol. Everyone assumes he is a throwback to my dad’s side of the family as they are Danish and German and all fair and blue-eyed – people comment on it ALL THE TIME. To the point that I have given up reminding people that it can’t be possible, I just smile and nod my head and say thank you. However, I do like to think that my DNA turned those genes on and had some determination in their strong expression in him.

We registered on the donor sibling registry, and are in contact with the parent of one of our boy’s genetic half-sibling. It is only a couple of times a year, but it has been interesting. We are hoping to meet one day.

I don’t know how I feel about meeting the donor someday… conflicted, I suppose. I am so thankful for what she did… but I also have this fear of my boys wanting to get to know their donor. But, we decided before I even got pregnant that we would be honest with them from the get-go, and have books that we read to them (they are 17 months old) even now, and talk about it pretty openly in our house, with our family and friends. We have been very blessed that everyone in our lives was immediately open to and receptive of this idea, even people I thought were going to struggle with the idea. My family treats the boys just like they treated my older son.

It was a heart wrenching and long 3 year journey, but so worth it.

I love sharing my story with over DE moms so thank you for letting me do that.

Sorry for the radio silence

20 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by in Donor Eggs, IVF, Uncategorized

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Hello all! Sorry it’s been so long. Life keeps happening at warp speed. Here’s a quick breakdown of what’s happening with us before I start going on about my little dudes.

We moved across the country. Like, just picked up and moved. My husband got fired the first week of July and we moved before Aug. My post-doc was ending and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do after that and I have been itching to get closer to family. My mama could not BE more thrilled. After we moved I played stay-at-home-mom for 4 months. I’m not very good at that, as it turns out. Hats off to all you SAHM’s because it’s hard as hard can be. I was simultaneously overwhelmed and bored to death. I made A LOT of apple pies.

Sooooo…I got a job! It happened to come along at just the right time. It’s with a non-profit that I’ve worked with for years and years and, while it’s not research, it’s in my field, I’m very good at it, it’s important work, it pays reasonably well and it has amazing benefits! Of course, I have an hour and half commute each way but you can’t have it all right? Now, on to my boys…

They are spectacular. First of all, they’re huge. They’re 99% and 97% for height and weight – they both wear 2T at 18 months and are about the size of the average 3 year old. Z started walking at 9 months and lazy Ro was content to sit on his fat bottom and watch the action until 10.5 months. Now, at almost 19 months they’re climbing, running, wrestling, and laughing. They both use sign language and they both are talking, mostly about poop. Z has always been fastidious about his diaper, so now when he soils it he comes to me, holds up his shirt and says “Poop, mama. Poop.” And if I don’t immediately spring to my feet he’ll go and get a diaper, lay it in my lap and then lean in close and look in my eyes and say “MAMA. POOP.” R is constantly chatting about ducks and dinosaurs and singing Old MacDonald (“e, i, e, i , mooooooo”). They have fights over who gets to sit in my lap – they both push each other and say “No! MY MAMA!”. My heart melts. Ro has a megawatt smile and knows how to use it, and Z is a sweet and gentle soul.

I have days where I cry that they’re not “mine”, but truthfully they couldn’t be more mine. I have days where the pain and process it took to get to where we are overwhelms me with both fear and gratitude-we were so close to giving up. I have days where I wish with all of my heart that I never have to tell them how they were conceived. But I have more days, many many many more days where I’m proud of their origins. I’m proud of the struggle. I’m proud that one day they will have definitive concrete proof of how much we wanted them and how much they were loved, before they were even conceived. I FOUGHT for them. And I’m proud of who they are. I wouldn’t trade them for bio babies EVER. THEY are my babies. And I am their mama.

I love Ro with all of my heart, but Z is mine. He was Baby B, snuggled up under my ribcage, right beside my heart. His hair is exactly the color of mine. His personality is me to a T. Last week, when my mom and aunt were visiting I heard them laughing downstairs while I was folding clothes. Turns out Z had taken the ribbon on my moms blouse and was using it to tickle his ear, which was what I used to do, in exactly that same way. I know about epigenetics, and I believe all of that stuff (mostly) but it is a balm to me to see him be like me in so many ways. I can’t look at them and try and find my nose, or my fingernails, or my toes, but I still see myself in them, and in Z in particular.

Don’t get me wrong, I love R. He’s a troublemaker, and a performer and a silly silly monkey! R loves everyone. He’ll go to everyone with a smile and hug. Everyone adores him. He has a modeling contract and has been relatively successful (less so now that I can’t take him to auditions obviously). People stop us in public to comment on what a beautiful child he is. Z is quiet. He hangs back until he’s sure of what’s going on. And then, when he’s comfortable, he’s a beam of sunshine. He took apart the coffee table when he was 11 months old. He has taken apart the baby gate once or twice and now when he starts to do I tell him “No Z-bone”, and he’ll get a big grin and then pretend to do it. I’ll start to stand up and he’ll laugh and say “No, Z-bone. Mama say no”. But he’ll stop, and then he’ll get a book and come crawl in my lap. He has his baby doll that he loves (below), and his kitty that he sleeps with. Ro has a blankie that goes everywhere with him, and he’s obsessed with shoes or “sues” and must put on all pairs within in sight. Which means his shoes, my shoes and then daddy’s shoes. All at once.

So I have the engineer and the actor, the thinker and the lover. My little boys. I have it all.

 

 

 

30 weeks, choices

02 Monday Jun 2014

Posted by in Donor Eggs, fear, IVF, Pregnancy

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Ever since I got pregnant (4th IVF, using donor eggs for those of you just joining the convo) I’ve been struggling with what to do with this blog. Do I keep it? Start a different blog? Abandon it altogether?

Because I know how hard it is to see someone be successful in this process – even though you’re completely happy for them it’s terribly difficult. I know how awful it is to keep failing and watch everyone else succeed. It is really, really hard – demoralizing even. You go from being comrades, survivors, confidants to feeling (for me at least) on the outside, once again. Sonograms, doctor visits, bump pictures – they hurt. Believe me, I know. So if you have to unfollow me at this point I absolutely understand, and I don’t take it personally.

It’s just that the more I think about why I started this blog in the first place the more I feel that I need to continue my story here, because my story isn’t over, not by a long shot! The reality is that I am pregnant with 2 little boys as the result of egg donation. I’m ok with that. My husband is ok with that. My family, his family, our close friends – all “A-OK”. It’s the rest of the world I’m worried about. And some days it’s still hard. As I get bigger I get more and more questions about what we think they’ll look like, who we think they’ll take after, etc. And that’s only going to get worse after they’re born. I’m getting better at fielding the questions, but every so often I get really, really sad that I don’t have a genetic link with these babies (I know about epigenetics – I’m talking about a classic genetic link). I’m learning that, as happy as I am to have these little guys and as much as I already love them, there will always be an ache, a sore spot. And that’s ok. That doesn’t make me a bad person, or a bad mother. It makes me human. I didn’t get my fairy tale. What I did get was life – real, visceral, in-your-face reality. And I earned these babies with blood, sweat and tears – literally. And I think that’s an important story to tell. And I know that I, my sons, my whole family, will struggle with this for years to come. We will be honest with the boys about their conception, but that’s a story that has to be told and retold, made and remade for years and years. And it’s a complicated, emotional and difficult story for everyone involved. It’s going to be hard.

Certainly, folks have navigated these waters before and there are far more resources than there used to be, but it’s hardly commonplace. When I was researching donor eggs I had a hard time finding anything personal, most information was from clinics. And I didn’t just want to know the logistics – how to choose a donor, what meds to take, cost – I wanted to know how it all turned out. Did the donor conceived kids turn out ok? Did they feel like a family? Did the parents love them like their own? Did the parents dwell all the time on the differences between them and their children? Did they spend time looking for the donor in each mannerism? Or were these kids just kids like any other kids? And on and on and on….  So, I’m going to keep this blog so that anyone who is considering the same path I have taken can know how it all turned out – start to finish.

And with that, here is the obligatory bump picture – 2 days shy of 30 weeks pregnant with fraternal twin boys.

 

I found Bigfoot!! BFP!!!

29 Friday Nov 2013

Posted by in 2WW, Donor Eggs, Results

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It’s still light, but it is crystal clear.

I tested yesterday at 1 PM (I know, I know) and it was BFN. But as I was getting ready for bed I glanced over at the counter where I had laid the HPT and there was a whisper faint “you can see it in the right light if you turn your head and squint maybe” second line. I know better than to make too much of that but it was still…interesting, especially at 3dp5dt.

Today (4dp5dt) after lunch I was sitting on my husbands lap and the smell of pizza on his breath was so strong and awful (sorry baby, not your fault) that I ran into the bathroom gagging. Poor DH! Decided that was as good a time as any to POAS, and the double line came up within a minute. Let’s pray that line keeps getting darker!

 

Embryo Transfer

26 Tuesday Nov 2013

Posted by in 2WW, Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), Donor Eggs, Infertility and step-kids, IVF, Results

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Yesterday I had my embryo transfer and it went better than I could have possibly imagined!

My step-daughter is in town so she and DH dropped me off at the clinic and went GeoCaching. It sucks that he wasn’t there for the transfer but it would have been really boring for her, and we don’t want to tell her what’s going on. Right now we just say that I have something wrong with my tummy, it doesn’t work quite right, and the doctors are trying to fix it.

Anyway, I got my acupuncture (the needles in the ears hurt like a mofo!!) and then they sent me into the operating room and sat me in that weird “hang upside down by your feet with your legs spread” contraption. As I was getting settled the doctor said,

Dr: “I have some good news, but we have to talk. 5 of your 6 embryos made it blastocysts (!!!), and 2 of them are perfect 5AA blasts. You and S had mentioned that you want to transfer 2. I need to warn you that these embryos are of excellent quality, and if you transfer 2 you have a very good chance of getting pregnant with twins. A good chance like 55%. Is that still what you’d like to do?”

Me: …..Valium stare…..

Dr: “I would advise that you transfer 1, but I understand if you want to transfer 2. But I need to know that you understand the risks that we previously discussed.”

Me: “2. Yes. We want 2. The path of least regret for us is 2.”

Dr. “Ok.2 it is.”

Then the embryologist comes out and tells me that in addition to the 2 perfect little guys who are already hatching and are going into the oven today we also have 2 4BB embryos and an early blast that they think will progress nicely and be frozen along with its siblings. So, 2 go in and 3 go on ice!!

My bladder wasn’t quite full enough (easy for them to say) so the transfer took a while, but I finally saw the 2 little dots of light on the ultrasound go into my uterus and settle in. I can tell you as a fact that I once worried that I wouldn’t feel like donor eggs would be mine – that the children wouldn’t feel like mine – but I felt every bit as protective and excited about those little dots of light as I did when they were from my own eggs. The only difference is that this was tinged with an almost overwhelming gratitude for our donor, who made this possible. If anything, it added to the feeling of wonder.

They wheeled me out and then I had more acupuncture (ouchie ears!!!) and then home for a Valium induced sleep.

I am still tired today, and my stomach is upset from the antibiotics and all the other meds, but I am over the moon!! 2 in the oven and 2-3 as a back up!! Better than I could have ever expected! I’ve included a photo below of our 2 5AA hatching blasts. Sorry for the quality – it’s a phone picture of print out so whaddyagonnado?

 

Our 5AA hatching blastocysts, currently in the oven.

Our 5AA hatching blastocysts, currently in the oven.

Because I’m a POAS addict, and because we have a back-up plan and because I live right next to a Dollar Store I’ve decided to start testing on my own pretty early, probably 3dp5dt, PM. I feel like with hatching blasts people usually get a BFP (if they’re going to get it) starting around 5-6dp5dt.  In the meantime, I’m just going to try to relax and stay off the internet (yeah, right).

*On a different note – we’ve filed an emergency custody order to get my step-daughter away from her pregnant druggy mom who (3 days ago) threatened suicide, again. We have her for the whole week of Thanksgiving so it’s likely she just won’t go home again (of course, her mother is currently homeless so she doesn’t actually have a home to go back to). We could go from 0 kids to 3 kids in 3 weeks! Wouldn’t that be something.

Good news!! Good news!!

23 Saturday Nov 2013

Posted by in Donor Eggs, Results

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Hear ye, hear ye – the next time I start to throw a pity party someone remind me of this moment!

I swear, I feel like a dog that’s been kicked. With regards to IF I anticipate the worst constantly, mainly because that’s pretty much what’s it always been. I’m always cowering from the next blow. BUT, here’s what happened today.

When we got to our RE’s office for the transfer the Dr called us back to his office…weird. As it turns out 10 out of the 12 eggs were mature, and we had 7, not 6 that fertilized. Which means we’re well above my dreaded and feared 50% fertilization cut off. AND, 6 of the 7 of them are progressing very well, and we’ve been moved to a 5-day transfer! YIPPPEEEEEE!!!  So, the criteria are Cell Number, Embryo Grade (Good, Fair, Poor), Cell Symmetry (Perfect, Moderate, Severe), and Percent Fragmentation. Here’s the stats on Day 3…

  1. 8, Good, Perfect, 0%
  2. 10, Good, Moderate, 5%
  3. 10, Good, Moderate, 10%
  4. 14, Good, Moderate, 0%
  5. 8, Good, Moderate, 15%
  6. 8, Good, Moderate, 5%

Sorry for being such a whiny downer lately. And for posting so much. I promise not to post again until after the transfer. In the meantime…url

Fertilization report

22 Friday Nov 2013

Posted by in Donor Eggs, IVF, Results

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I’ve been posting a lot of doom and gloom lately so I thought I’d give y’all a break. Break’s over.

My donor only produced 12 eggs. And while 12 isn’t awful, it isn’t great, especially with a young donor. And certainly it was lower than my expectations. Especially since the girls on my board were coming back with numbers like 21 and 25. But, ok, it’s not quantity it’s quality right? And donors have good quality eggs, that’s why we choose them. And a good way to assess quality is fertilization rate with ICSI (according to many papers in different journals). Average fertilization rate with ICSI is 70-80%. Anything below 50% seems to be an indicator of poor egg quality. In fact, I found a study by Rinaudo et al., 2010 (Fertilization rate is an independent predictor of implantation rate)  that shows that fertilization rate is a robust indictor of implantation potential. If less than 50% of your eggs fertilize (using ICSI) there is a 65% decrease in the chances of implantation.

6 eggs fertilized. 6 out of 12. That would be 50%.

For fun, lets continue our little math tutorial. If we assume I originally had a 50% of conceiving during this cycle but that the fertilization rate indicates sub-par egg quality and thus my odds are decreased by a further 65% that gives me a 17.5% chance of pregnancy. That’s about $2000 per percent, in case you’re keeping track. However, not only are the eggs (apparently) not of the highest quality, there aren’t that many of them, which further decreases the odds of a positive outcome. Grrrrrrrr…..

I’m holding on to the hope that the embryologist can answer some of my questions (he’s supposed to call today), because they didn’t tell me how many eggs were mature, which makes a difference. For example, if only 8 of the 12 were mature, and if 6 of those 8 fertilized there may not be a quality problem. That would be more of a protocol issue – why weren’t there more mature eggs? Which means there would be much more hope for the few we have left.

In any case, they’ve scheduled me for 2 transfers – one for tomorrow at 12:30 and one for Sunday at 10:30, because, why the hell not make things even MORE complicated!? If they don’t call it means I have to report tomorrow, which means most of the embryos didn’t progress and they are afraid to wait to put the other/s back in (make the patient feel like they get their money’s worth, I guess). If they do call that means all of them are progressing and we’ll wait to do a 5dt.

I’ll keep you updated.

**A sincere thank you to everyone who has been commenting on my blog lately. Your humor, understanding and support have been truly incredible and I am humbled and grateful.**

 

Starting my DE cycle

25 Friday Oct 2013

Posted by in Donor Eggs, IVF, Musings

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Just got back from the teaching visit with my RE, where I wrote the biggest check I’ve ever written in my whole life. Here’s the plan!

  • 10/25 start Lupron
  • 10/29 stop BC
  • 11/4 start Estrace
  • ~11/17 – ultrasound lining check
  • ~11/18 Donor egg retrieval
  • ~11/19 we’ll be told how many eggs were retrieved
  • ~11/20 we’ll be told how many fertilized
  • ~11/24 Transfer
  • ~12/3 Beta

Everyone I spoke to told me how much they loved my donor, how sweet she was, and how excited she was to be starting the cycle. I’m putting together a little gift basket for her – the DE nurse says I can leave it at the clinic and they’ll give it to her the day of the retrieval. I got a nice basket and lined it with Thanksgiving themed kitchen towels. I’m putting in a stuffed animal (for her young son), a Willow Tree angel (here), a jar of homemade bath salts and homemade soap and some chocolate. I’ve also gotten an artist friend of mine to hand paint a card. Now I just have to figure out what to say! I mean, how do you thank someone for this? I have one chance to express to this woman how much this act, this gift, will mean to me and my family. I want her to know how much I appreciate her putting herself through this (I’ve been through IVF – it’s rough). I know she’s getting paid and I’m sure the money is an important consideration for her, but there are easier ways to make a buck. Plus, according to my DE nurse she isn’t doing this for the money – she seems to truly have altruistic intentions. Maybe they always say that, I don’t know. Regardless, I want to give her some sense of how grateful and thankful we are.

You know, it’s weird. IVF, DE, infertility – it’s a super intensity experience. And somewhere, nearby, is a women who is thinking of me and I am thinking of her. We’re on this parallel path, she and I, with coordinated cycles, blood draws, doctor visits. We’re both going through a significant amount of trouble, spending an incredible amount of time to achieve a common goal, and yet I’ll never meet her. I think of her every day, and I’m sure she thinks of me sometimes, and we’re sharing a very unusual and strangely intimate experience, but we’re strangers. It’s just….odd.

The road to donor eggs

23 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by in Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), Donor Eggs, IUI, IVF, Miscarriage, Musings

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No one expects that they’ll need to use someone else’s eggs to conceive a child. Well, maybe a few do, but for most of us this is not the way we planned it. It’s a last resort, rather than a first choice. And it is a long and painful road to get to the point where you make that decision.

First, there is the decision to go to the fertility clinic, usually after months or years of dedicated effort to procreate and continual, repeated disappointment. At the fertility clinic there are the tests, the waiting, the fear. Then the shock of “The Diagnosis” – that condition that suddenly defines your reproductive potential and, by proxy, redefines how you see yourself. Then “The Treatment”. Whether it’s corrective surgery, medicated cycles, IUI’s, IVF, etc, it is invasive, expensive, time-consuming, soul crushing, relationship damaging and anxiety ridden. Add in generous measures of shame, guilt, fear, failure and anxiety and you can come close to understanding how absolutely devastating infertility can be. But, we all think that treatment will work for us, we all think we’re the lucky one. Maybe you are, but maybe you aren’t. If you are, congrats! But if you aren’t (and statistically most of us aren’t) – you search your soul and you muster your courage, because either you will move forward and try another treatment, or you will reevaluate and choose a different path. Both roads take immense courage and sacrifice. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat until your strength, patience, or bank account run out.

At some point during this process you will have a crisis of confidence, a crisis of self, a breakdown, a total loss of joy. There will be moments where you can’t go on, where you can’t get out of bed, where you can’t face your husband/wife/mother/father/friends/doctor/expectations/life. Days of extreme anger and frustration and “why me?”. There will be bargaining and pleading and praying. And there will be pain, both physical and emotional. Lots and lots of pain.

At some point during this process someone may say some version of “This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry. Despite all of the advances of medical science we can’t help you. You will never have children.” And at that point you will begin to consider things that you never imagined you would consider. For me, that was egg donation.

Early on, my RE asked me if we would consider using an egg donor. I gave her an absolute, unequivocal NO. No way, never, not ever would I ever even consider that.  NO.  NEVER.  EVER. But, that was before 2 failed IUI’s, 3 failed IVF’s, 1 miscarriage, countless nights spent crying, untold numbers of heartfelt talks with my husband, and hundreds of hours of considering my dwindling options for motherhood. That was before I spoke to many, many people who decide to use egg donation to help create their families. And then, once I began to consider it, I was completely overwhelmed by my feelings about what that would mean for me, for my husband, any DE conceived children, our families…. Would I be the mother? Would I feel like an impostor? Would I love the child the same as if it was my own? Would my husband/family/society view me or my child differently? And how on earth do I choose a woman to replace me? Because that’s what it feels like initially – that you’re choosing a replacement.  I didn’t think I could live with the decision to use an egg donor, but I also didn’t think I live with not having a child. (The adoption conversation we will need to save for another time). One of the wonderful ladies who follows my blog wrote to me and told me that at some point you magically turn a corner – it may be finding the right donor, or coming to terms with the situation, or completing the grieving process – and it suddenly feels ok. Not perfect, not ideal – but doable. And she was right. One day I woke up and it didn’t hurt to look at the profiles. I start to feel excited. I stopped looking for myself on the donor sites and started looking for traits I would like to pass on to my children. Somehow, lord only knows how, I was not only ok with donor eggs, but embracing the idea and excited to begin.

I chose to share our decision to use an egg donor with some close friends (we don’t plan on keeping our conception journey a secret from our children so we may as well start getting used to talking about it now) and unfortunately we were met with mixed reactions. I don’t know why I was surprised given that I was conflicted initially as well. But, it still hurt to have my friends tell me that our choice is “unnatural”, “deviant”, “desperate and selfish” and “horrifying”. Of course, those same people had to get off the phone with me to go put their children to bed. So, easy for them to make pronouncements from on high. But, I can understand their knee-jerk reaction. Truly, I can. But the thing that I wasn’t able to communicate to them and the point that I’m trying to make here is that no one arrives at this decision quickly. No one takes it lightly. We have all, every last one of us, been through hell before we arrived at this particular cross roads. I would wager that everyone who has ever chosen to use donor eggs gave it an incredible amount of thought and did an unbelievable amount of soul-searching. And something that I have learned from this is that my choices are for me, my husband and my family. These are the right things for US. They may not be the choices you would make, they may not be the right thing for your family. But I believe they are the right choices for me and my family. I hope that we get support, but if we don’t – oh well. I can live with that.

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Sh!t happened on Friday the 13th

14 Saturday Sep 2013

Posted by in Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), Donor Eggs, Musings

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Yesterday I was pooped on (by the dog, twice), vomited on (by myself and the dog), pulled over (by a cop), vomited on someone else (same cop; he quickly determined I had a good reason for not coming to a complete stop at the stop sign but decided against helping me clean up the dog butt explosion in the car). I striped to my skivvies on the side of the road (twice) and washed myself and the dog with a hose behind a gas station, all while driving 350 miles from CA to AZ. I have now rewashed myself and the dog several times, but I refuse to go near the car. Side note – I challenge anyone to be stuck in a car on a curvy road, unable to pull over, with a dog in the backseat spraying diarrhea everywhere (including on you and the windshield) and not vomit. Can’t be done

After a day like that, no one wants to get a call from their fertility clinic. As I saw the number come up I wondered if I was about to get shit on yet again. Bracing myself, I answered. Turns out my DE nurse had some news. She hadn’t called me all week because she wanted to give us and the donor a week to consider moving forward. She said especially in light of all that we’ve been through, in particular while choosing a donor, she wanted to make sure everyone was 100% on board. She spoke with the donor 3 separate times this past week, reiterating the processes and giving her a bit of information about us – nothing too personal, just the basics of the situation. She says the donor is excited to move forward, pleased to be matched with us and has a solid understanding of both the process and the commitment. The only things she has left to do are the genetic testing and psychological profile and the nurse isn’t worried about either. On Monday, I am to call the financial gal at the clinic to firm up all the numbers and send the next check, as well as the cycling nurse to discuss where I am in my cycle and start getting synced up with the donor. It looks like it’s happening. It’ll take about 2 weeks (on the outside) for the donor to complete her testing and then all we have to do is….the cycle itself.

Considering that we’ve never gotten this far before you’d think I’d be ecstatic, but really I’m extremely cautiously optimistic. The bitter, hardened part of me is working overtime to hedge my bets and prep my soul for disaster (that would be the devil on my shoulder saying “The timing couldn’t be worse. You’re going to finish your dissertation while pregnant? Who’s going to hire a pregnant women once you’re done? So you’ll be unemployed? You know your lease is up in Jan and the landlord is selling the house so you have to move? You’re going to be pregnant AND unemployed AND homeless? If this doesn’t work it out it will be a blessing in disguise.” And the angel on the other shoulder whispers “Of course you’ll find a job, don’t be silly. You already have 2 job possibilities lined up. And you’ll just move into another house and this will let you have a nursery, and it will be a great chance to get rid of all the extra junk (physical and emotional) you’ve been wool gathering for the last few years.”)

Either way, here are the things I know for certain

  1. There is never a perfect time to have a baby. No one ever looks at their watch and goes “I have the next 18 years free, let’s have a kid.” No one ever looks in their wallet and goes “Too much money in here, we should have a kid.”
  2. I’m not getting any younger. (My eggs are already shot, but they were probably crappy by the time I was 25.) My ability to easily and successfully have a comfortable and complication free pregnancy decreases with every passing year. My energy level for chasing toddlers isn’t going to increase in my 40’s either.
  3. I want a child. My husband wants a child. And in the end this is the only thing that matters.

Plot twist!

06 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by in Donor Eggs, Results

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Do you ever feel like infertility is one big soap opera and every single step is a possible life changing plot twist? Me too.

You know how we found the perfect donor? Turns out she’s perfect except that she has NO follow through. I’ll spare you the details, but  basically she never even filled out the paperwork, never mind coming in for doctors appointments or testing. So after 5+ weeks of waiting on tenter hooks for her to do SOMETHING we decided to pull the plug.  After all, if she has cold feet now there’s no way she’s going to be up for the daily dildo cam and shots in the gut. So, our options were to choose someone else from The World Egg Bank or to cancel with them and be out $1000 (this is only an option if no testing has begun, otherwise you owe them the full amount of +$10,000).

Heart broken (again) I called the donor nurse at my clinic to ask for advice. Lo and behold the mythical red haired donor she’s been telling us about for months has passed all of her prescreening (ovarian assessment, paperwork, genetic history) and is up for grabs. Technically we’re on a rather lengthy waiting list for a donor through the clinic but given our arduous journey (2 medicated IUI’s, 3 IVF’s and a miscarriage), multiple setbacks (sister to donate eggs only to find out that she also has DOR; multiple issues with donors) and very specific donor characteristics (small stature, red hair) the clinic has put us at the front of the line for this particular donor. She has red hair, blue eyes, is 5’4″ and has a clean bill of health. The nurse says she’s mature, committed, vivacious and sweet. She kept talking about her “wonderful personality”. Of course, my husband immediately assumed she must be a troll, since in “man talk” a wonderful personality = not so cute. The nurse sent us her profile, which seemed great. We requested a picture, and I’ve been on the edge of my seat waiting for it to come. I got it this morning. And immediately I called and cancelled with The World Egg Bank and sent a message to the nurse that we want her.

She looks exactly like my mom.

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Nope

23 Tuesday Jul 2013

Posted by in Donor Eggs

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Donor Egg Bank insists on anonymous donations only.

Called my husband and told him and he said that my “unrealistic expectations and inability to compromise would keep us from ever having a family”.  !!!  Inability to compromise? I have compromised on everything! EVERYTHING. Unrealistic expectations? All I want is someone who kind of resembles me, and for them to be willing to possibly speak to a kid in 18 years. That’s unrealistic? I’ve given up the idea we can make a baby like everyone else. I’ve given up time, money, health, financial security and sanity to do IVF. I’ve given up the idea of ever having a biological child of my own. I’ve given up the idea of using my sisters eggs and having a biological connection that way. I am not willing to give up anything else. And I don’t think I’m being unreasonable, unrealistic or uncompromising. And I’m devastated that he thinks that.

What not to say to a stranger

20 Monday May 2013

Posted by in Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), Donor Eggs, Musings

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Saturday was my 37th birthday. Low key, overall nice day. Sat night was my friends bachelorette party / my birthday party and we decided to go dancing with a group of girls. I didn’t know some of them as they were work friend’s of the girl getting married. So, we’re all introducing ourselves and one of the girls says to me “Is your hair real?”. I get this all the time. So I say “Yes. It was a gift from my mama.” She replies “You know, you could make a lot of money.” I get this all the time too – people telling me how much real hair red wigs go for. So I say “Yes, so I’ve heard.” But then she totally blindsided me and says “You should sell your eggs. I bet a ton of people who waited too long to have kids are dying for some eggs from red heads. I bet they’d pay thousands of dollars.” I stared at her with my mouth open. I couldn’t even believe what was happening. I mumbled some reply and walked away and she followed me still babbling about these sad old woman who couldn’t have babies that would buy my eggs.

As I’m getting into the car to go the club a friend of mine says “Can you believe the nerve of that girl? I mean, Jesus, what if you couldn’t have children or something? Can you imagine how that would make you feel?” Why yes, yes I can imagine EXACTLY how that would make me feel. It made me feel like shit. It made me feel ashamed. I wanted so bad to say to her “You know, I can’t have children, so I am one of those sad old woman who is looking for a red-haired egg donor right this minute and am going to buy her eggs for thousands of dollars, if I’m lucky. And thank you SO MUCH for reminding me of that ON MY BIRTHDAY.” But I didn’t. I hung my head and I ran away. And I’m ashamed of that too. It was an opportunity to educate someone on infertility and I was too weak/scared/sad/ashamed to stand up for myself. *sigh* Maybe one day I’ll be in a better place with this. But until then, universe, could you cut me some slack? Geez.

Donor eggs?

08 Wednesday May 2013

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Hi everyone – sorry I’ve been gone for so long. First I want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for your thoughts, comments and well wishes. There are times in the last few months when I’ve been in a pretty dark place and your support has been invaluable to me. So, thank you.

Things have been pretty rough ’round these parts. A few days after we found out that my sister has DOR and can’t donate my whole family came out to visit. It was already planned – my mom wanted to be out here while my sister and I got our tests finished. And it was terrible and awkward. We didn’t discuss it. Not even once. Such a huuuuuuuge elephant in the room!! It was awful.

After they left I just tried to put the whole thing from my mind. It was just too big, too much to deal with. Once again, I felt totally overwhelmed, completed defeated and entirely alone. *sigh*

A few weeks ago when my husband was out of town I spent an entire day watching documentaries on adoption. Not gonna lie, they painted a pretty dismal picture of adult children with serious attachment issues, separation anxiety and abandonment issues, even when they were adopted as babies and raised by warm and loving adoptive parents. Clearly, not all (or even most) of adopted people feel that way but it was eye opening. That same night I started looking at egg donor registries, just to see what was out there. I saw a girl who had a teenage photo that looked just like me – I sent it to my mom and she said “I don’t remember you dressing up as a cowgirl for Halloween”. It’s pretty good if even your own mom can’t tell! But, to use that girl would be upwards of $35K (not including travel) which is way outside of our budget considering that our savings are already drained from all this other infertility BS.

So, now I’m looking at frozen eggs. However, the more reading that I do about egg donation the more “on the fence” I become. Most frozen egg donors are anonymous, and I don’t want that. I don’t want them all up in my business, but (if I were to go this route) I believe donor conceived children have a right to know their genetic heritage. After all, S and I would have gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to ensure that our child was genetically related to us (well, one of us), how could we take away our child’s right to know the people they are genetically related to?

Plus, if I were the donor (HA) I would want to know that the eggs I donated went to good people. I don’t know that I would want to be heavily involved with them or the children, but I’d like to know. 

There’s a girl in the egg donor registry that I like. A lot. She looks like me – red hair, green eyes, similar build. Her nose is bigger, her lips are fuller, her eyes are slanted. I think she’s lovely – a prettier, more petite version of me. But she’s 22. Which is great, reproductively. But who’s to say that at 27, or 30 or 35 or when she wants to have her own children that she won’t regret her decision to donate? That she won’t wonder about her “other” possible children and be concerned for their health and happiness? I would be, if I were her. So for her, the potential future genetic mother of my potential future donor children and for those children themselves I’d want at least to have the option for limited future contact. But I don’t think that’s possible with frozen eggs. 

On top of this, I have all the usual fears about using donor gametes. Will I be able to bond with a child that’s not genetically mine? Will I always be looking for the donors traits? Will I be able to handle it? Will the child love me? Will I always feel second rate, second best, like I’m not really their mother? Will my family/friends/society be able to accept the child? Will the child think we were selfish for focusing on our desire for a child rather than what that decision would mean for the child who has to live with our choices? Would the child feel “incomplete”? Have I thought through this decision enough? Will the child want to find/have a relationship with their donor?

I know a lot of you have been here and have grappled with these same issues. Any thoughts or advice you have would be awesome. We have a meeting with our RE tomorrow to discuss donor eggs (including whether or not this particular donor would be open to limited contact) so hopefully he’ll be able to help clarify some things as well.

Man, remember when things were straightforward and easy? Nah, me neither.

A manifesto on fear.

26 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), Donor Eggs, Musings

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One day soon I hope I’ll have good news – happy things to post on here – rather than the usual doom and gloom complaining. But, I don’t. Not yet.

My sadness from the other day has shifted into something a bit more sinister that feels uncannily like fear. I am afraid (there, I said it) of what comes next. This feels dangerously like putting all of my eggs in one basket (which it is, physically and metaphorically). My sister is our last chance, and that is a HUGE scary thing. What if it doesn’t work? After all, if infertility has taught me anything it’s that I’m not the exception, I’m the worst case scenario. My usual “Hope for the best prepare for the worst” model doesn’t work; it’s more like “Don’t let yourself hope at all and wear a helmet and body armor ’cause the worst is coming and it’s gonna hurt like hell”.  S and I had a conversation today that broke my heart. He wanted to talk about baby names, asked me if I had picked a boy name. He’s hoping again, he’s back onboard. We talked about it for a few minutes, laughing and smiling, and suddenly I realized what I was doing and was furious with myself. It felt like leading him on, allowing him to hope so freely. It felt like it was jinxing it.

I’m afraid to hope again. I’m afraid that if it doesn’t work I’ll fall apart. I’m afraid that if it doesn’t work my sister will feel like she failed. I’m afraid her test results will come back as borderline DOR and we won’t be able to even try. I’m afraid she has the same thing as me and that she’ll be thrown into infertility hell with us. THAT would be the absolute worst thing that could happen.

My sister and her fiance fly out here on Easter (fittingly the holiday where eggs take center stage), and the following week she has her appointments with our doctors here (she had her initial consultation in her home state-no results yet) and with the psychologist and the lawyer. It’s getting real up in here. It’s not just the happy feelings of sisterly love and nebulous future possibilities – we’re back to cold hard facts, appointments, statistics, probabilities… and once bitten, twice shy. I have learned the hard way that I fall on the wrong side of all those numbers. And I’m scared.

Next Steps

05 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), Donor Eggs, IVF, Musings, Uncategorized

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I’ve been MIA for quite a while – sorry. I just needed a break from all of the IVF/infertility stuff. However, a lot has happened!

S and I went back to our local RE and had a hilarious conversation about what we wanted to do next. We told her about CCRM (she was appalled that they made us redo all of the tests she’d already done – bills are still coming in and we’re over $6000 now just from the ODWU) and that I wasn’t comfortable there and didn’t want to cycle with them. I launched into the back story of when my sister offered to donate her eggs and the conversation went something like this –

Me: “So, I was in the car with my sister and was telling her about CCRM.”

Dr: “Yesssss…”

Me: “And I told her my AMH has dropped.”

Dr.: “Yessssss…..”

Me: “And she said-“

Dr: “What did she say?!?”

Me”-that she would like to donate her eggs to us.”

Dr.: “YES!!!!! I’ve been waiting for you to say that since you walked in!!!”

So, she was thrilled, to say the least. Then we told her we wanted to try one more cycle with my eggs, if it looked like it could be viable (ie, if my AMH is >0.1 and my baseline ultrasound shows 4+ follicles).  She readily agreed. We met with the donor egg nurse (who might just be the nicest person alive) and left feeling pretty good about things. What a change, walking out of that office feeling hopeful, or at least not in tears.

My sister has been in touch with DE nurse (she also loved her) and we are moving forward on that front. She is going to see an RE in her area to make sure she fits the criteria and that her reproductive bits are all in working order (Please universe, let her be ok – Not for my sake but for hers. I wouldn’t wish infertility on my worst enemy and it would break my heart for my sister to have suffer it). We’ve booked flights for her and her fiancé to fly out here on their spring break (they live across the country) so that we can all go to the psychologist and so that my sister can get the final parts of her testing done.

I started my period yesterday (for the first time in years I was happy to see it arrive) and I go in day after tomorrow to get the verdict (in the form of an ultrasound with the blood work verdict being a day or 2 behind). Will we be able to move forward with one final IVF cycle using my eggs?

To be honest, either way is going to be tough. If it looks hopeless that’ll be the last nail in the coffin of me ever having my own biological children, and despite feeling prepared for that finality I know I’m not. It would be a huge, bitter pill to swallow. But, the thought of another failed IVF cycle, or worse – another miscarriage – is beyond daunting. And…. I feel like there might be some relief in just letting go – letting go of the expectations, the possibilities, the “what ifs”, the constant researching, the painful, unrealistic hope. I imagine it could be very freeing to just accept that I will never have biological children, mourn that, and move on to other possibilities. I feel that I have reached a point where the waiting and the not knowing and the limbo is so hard that I’d rather just have a verdict. And honestly, 4 months ago I could not have imagined feeling that.

You know what I think the difference is (besides time)? Choice. I feel I have a choice again, that I am in control of my life again. That is an offshoot of the incredible gift my sister offered me – she gave me an option I was comfortable with, and put the ball back in my court. I am no longer at the end of my rope, out of options, out of control. Not saying either of these options will work (OE or DE), but if they don’t I can imagine that there are more options. And I know that I could be open to them. One way or another, it will happen for me. I will make it work.

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Brutal honesty

24 Thursday Jan 2013

Posted by in Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), IUI, Musings, Uncategorized

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One of the brave ladies whose blogs I follow had some bad news today. Only 1/3 of the eggs they retrieved during this cycle were mature. She is understandably crushed and feels that she has reached the end of the road. Despite thousands of dollars of drugs and treatments, months of healthy living, and the highest level of medical intervention available she feels like pregnancy isn’t going to happen for her. I feel her pain. My feet are also on that road, and it is a sad, lonely, painful path to walk.

We spend so much time scouring blogs, boards and articles looking for hope – trying to find that one success story, trying to convince ourselves (and often succeeding) that we are the lucky ones, that it will happen for us. People answer your questions and are very supportive – “Keep trying!”, “Don’t give up!”, they say. That support is invaluable, but it’s also misleading.

A few months ago I posted a question on an infertility board and got lots of warm, friendly, supportive, positive replies. I felt good, better, even hopeful.  And then a woman sent me a personal message. She told me that she had the same diagnoses as me and was a bit younger. She had basically the same response to meds. And she was going to use donor eggs. She urged me to open myself up to other options, because, as she said “it was very, very unlikely that I’d ever carry a pregnancy to term with my own eggs.” I was angry, hurt and confused. She’d burst my bubble. Where was the support? All those words that I wanted to hear? I didn’t want to hear that it wouldn’t work, I didn’t want to acknowledge that as a possibility.

Months have gone by since she wrote to me. Since then my AMH has dropped. I had a miscarriage and another unsuccessful Clomid cycle to add to my list of failures. My odds, which were never good, are in the toilet. So I wrote her back. I asked her questions. And I now trust her as someone who will tell me the truth. Not in a mean, hurtful or dismissive way (like my RE) but like someone who has been there. Like someone who walked this horrible road before me and understands the pain, frustration, and utter powerlessness that you feel. She found a way out of this terrible place. She recently gave birth to twins –  a boy and girl – as a result of her DE cycle. She beat infertility. Not in the straightforward way we all wish for, but in a subterfuge – an undercover coup. She found the courage to accept a work-around, and she has 2 beautiful children and couldn’t care less where they came from. 2 souls now exist that didn’t before. Her arms and heart are full. She won.

Let me be very clear here – donor eggs, surrogacy, adoption – these options are not for everyone. It is an extremely personal choice. The point is that there is a choice. One of the most awful things about infertility is that your choice, the control of your own destiny, the control over your own body is taken away and no amount faith, karma, begging, wishing or believing can change that. But there are options. There are choices.

So, when my blog friend wrote how defeated she was feeling my first instinct was to comfort, reassure and sooth her. But I erased that response and tried to be honest, hoping that eventually she would find some comfort in that honesty and that it would help to make the road she’s on a little less frightening. I wanted her to know that even if her very worst fears come true (which is very possible) life won’t come crashing down. There is hope, but it may look entirely different than you thought it would.

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Donor soul?

31 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by in CCRM, IVF, Musings

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So much has happened that I don’t know where to start. This isn’t the beginning but it’ll have to do for now.

As I’m driving with my sister over the holidays she casually asks what our next steps are going to be with the fertility stuff. I briefly fill her in on not being able to afford CCRM, my new AMH (CCRM called on Dec 21 and told me my AMH had fallen to <0.1 – Merry Christmas, you’ll never have children!), that I’m feeling lost and hopeless, that I’m starting to consider adoption. She’s quiet for a minute and then she says “I don’t know how you’d feel about this, but assuming everything is fine with my reproductive system, I’d like to donate my eggs to you. I’ve looked into it, I know what’s involved. The shots, the 60-70 hours of doctor visits, the procedures. After all, we have the same DNA. We could do it this July, if you want.” I promptly start bawling. It was such a kind, selfless, incredible gesture. I couldn’t (and can’t) wrap my head around it. Here’s my baby sister – the one I tormented, teased, played with, fought with – offering to give me the greatest gift in the world. offering to go through a good deal of trouble and pain and suffering to help me fulfill my dream. Offering to allow me to carry and to raise a child – her child, OUR child. I can’t put my thoughts (much less my feelings) into words. If her kidneys were failing I would donate her one of mine without a second thought. This felt like her offering to give me a part of her soul, because she could see that my soul was failing.

S was equally shocked and awed by the offer and ultimately has left the decision up to me. I don’t know if we’ll take her up on it, we very well might. What I do know is that the gaping black hole of despair and hopelessness that I’ve been carrying around inside of me has shrunk. The edge of the abyss has retreated. I am forcefully reminded that my life is good – I have people who love me, family who will do anything to help me. I am reminded that infertility doesn’t define me – I am greater than the sum of my ovaries. I also realize that I need 2 children, because wow, everybody needs a sister.

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