July 14, 2007
Angus and I had two reasons for doing this - the first is honestly the fact that if I donated half of the eggs I created during an IVF cycle, my IVF cycle would be free. It sounds horrible and materialistic, but it's true. IVF isn't cheap. The woman who I'd be donating eggs to would basically pay the cost of my cycle and her cycle. The division of the eggs would be even, except in the case of an odd number of eggs I'd get the spare. They would not divide them based on quality, just an even split.
The other reason we donated is because, based on my past experience, I produce a serious bumper crop of eggs when on hormone stimulation. Sharing half my eggs seemed so logical, I could help another woman, try to have a baby ourselves, and manage to pay only the bureaucratic costs. I confess to the vanity of being so happy that I could help another woman. I admit that knowing I was going to be able to assist someone was something that kept me focussed.
On our first IVF cycle together here I produced 19 eggs. That's considered a large amount by our clinic, which is extremely conservative and careful about managing egg numbers. My 19 eggs were split - the other woman got 9 eggs, I got 10 eggs.
I never knew a single detail about the other woman. I had to answer a long questionnaire about myself which would be filed with the government, the hospital, and a copy for the other woman, which she would get on the occasion that she achieved what's sentimentally known as a "viable pregnancy". Summing yourself up on a few pages of questionnaire is a pretty fucking scary thing when you're faced with it, and to this day I cant remember everything I said on it. I was terrified. When any children she had turned 18, they would be allowed by law to seek out their "birth mother". As far as I was concerned, I was not the birth mother. I would be happy to meet any offspring I helped create, but I had no doubt I was not their mother. The person who sang them to sleep and cleaned skinned knees and went on holiday with them was their mother.
On that first cycle, after splitting my eggs and then working on getting ours to fertilize, I mentally signed off my thoughts of the other woman. I had thought of her constantly prior to that - there was another woman in the UK doing some of the same drug treatments I was doing to get ready. There was another woman who probably thought about me a lot. There was another woman depending on me.
On that first cycle, neither of us got pregnant.
On the resulting frozen embryo transer, I was the only one who got pregnant, which I later miscarried.
The other woman had received 9 of my eggs and never achieved a positive pregnancy, and I can't tell you how bad I felt about that. She must've felt great - 9 eggs is a nice amount to work with in a country that tries for only 8-12 eggs per woman per cycle. She must've got her hopes up. She must've believed. 9 eggs later and it was all over.
In January we started on our next (and last, as in the UK you can only do two donor cycles of eggs) donor cycle. This time my body didn't respond as well to the drugs. It was an extremely stressful cycle even though I took great care of my body in preparation. In the end I only got 8 eggs, most of them not very good quality.
I felt terrible.
Another woman had her hopes pinned on the donor again, and all I came up with were 8 eggs of crappy quality. She got 4 and I got 4. 4...what an underwhelming number to pay nearly £6000 for. Of my 4, only 2 fertilized. We put both back in as the doctor explained they weren't great quality, it was incredibly unlikely they'd both take.
Fast forward and I'm now pregnant with the Lemonheads. Against huge odds those two average quality embryos made it. Unbelievable.
We decided to not find out about the other woman's success yet. I took it too hard last time, it really ate at me that I let someone down. My guilt from my previous failed cycle was enormous, it absolutely tore at me.
But something started to swing in me this week. Maybe it's knowing that we hit 24 weeks, that the midwife visit this week showed both myself and the twins in perfect health, maybe it's knowing that we're hitting survivability should the babies decide to come early. I don't know what it was, but I realized on Friday that I was ready to find out about the other woman, that it was ok to know now.
We called the clinic.
We got the word back.
The other woman never got pregnant using my eggs.
And once again I feel absolutely terrible for crashing someone's dreams. The logical part of my head tells me that I shouldn't feel bad, my eggs gave someone a chance and that's all that matters. But the illogical side of me knows how it feels to curl up in a fetal position and sob over a failed cycle.
I've been thinking about it a lot since then. Somewhere is a woman I send my heartfelt love and apologies to. Somewhere is someone that I want to hug and tell her how I did take care of myself, how I did wish for more for her.
I'm not a very touchy-feely person with regards to my stomach, I find I really only rub my growing bump when the Lemonheads are getting too active, as there's something about rubbing their kicks that makes them calm down. But this morning I sat on the couch and just rubbed the outside surface of my stomach in response to their little movements. I felt the small mound of a head on one side of me, and I smoothed my hand against it until they moved away. In whatever way I could I told them I loved them and that I'm glad they made it.
And for a little while the Lemonheads and I will mourn the dreams of another woman and hope she gets her chance soon to know what it's like to have someone inside you that you've never met but already love.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
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