I have to admit, I’ve been keeping something from you. It hasn’t been intentional. Typically I am so driven to write out exactly what is on my mind, because that’s the only way I know how to digest it. But this? There were just too many "what ifs", and too many things I wasn’t sure how I felt about. I didn’t want to put it out there into the ether and then change my mind. I didn’t want to talk about it until I knew exactly how I felt.
Some of you may remember that I donated my eggs to two different couples a few years ago, long before I knew that I would have my own fertility problems. Back in December I heard from the agency I donated through. The first couple that used my eggs now has twins, and they were hoping I would be willing to donate again so that they could further expand their family. As you can imagine, this was a very weighted e-mail for me to receive at that time. I had just had my second surgery a month prior, and was coming to terms with the very distinct possibility that I may never carry a child. I was still highly emotional, and a little unsteady in my actions. I hadn’t yet decided for sure to pursue IVF on my own, and so there were still a lot of questions about what my future held. Everything was very much so in the air.
So when I opened that e-mail, I immediately started crying. I was in Arizona at the time (it was just before Christmas) with my grandparents, dad, brother and sister in law, and cousins around me. I don’t even know why I was looking at my e-mail, except that the iphone is unfortunately becoming my security blanket!
I couldn’t help crying. Not because they had children and I didn’t, but because they had children. This couple who had struggled for so long to conceive now had twins; because of me. Because of something I chose to do to help them. For me there was a lot of hope in that; the message being that it can happen, no matter what. I was elated to learn that they had a family now; ecstatic to know of my part in that. And... I wanted to help them further. I wanted to assist them in expanding their family to the moon if that’s what they wanted. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; even though I never met them, I felt a strong connection to the women I donated to even then. At a time in my life when I couldn’t have comprehended their struggles anymore than I could have assessed what it would be like to go through life with a penis; I still felt connected to them and wanted them to succeed. Now that I understand in a way that I never would have imagined I would? I feel like those women are my sisters; my blood. I ached for them, as I ache for myself on the days I wonder why this has to be such a struggle. I wanted to help them.
But, I obviously knew I couldn’t. I knew that I am no longer the same donor who gave to them then. My ovaries have suffered a great deal of damage, and I’ve been told that my eggs are now those of a woman 10 years older than me. My time is running out, and I am no longer in a position to help anyone else; I have to help myself now.
You may recall that I sent the agency an e-mail to that effect, but at the end of that letter (for good measure, and also a little added humor – it’s still me we’re talking about!) I said I might be interested if the family wanted to go “halvsies” on a cycle.
I was half joking/half serious. On the one hand, I really did want to help them, and I couldn’t imagine needing all of my eggs. I produced 14 eggs for both of my donations, and I assumed that even if I only produced 10 now, why couldn’t I share? I never in a million years thought it would actually be a possibility (the legalities and moral ambiguities would be astronomical), but I figured I would throw it out there. When the agency called me the next day to thank me for my honesty, but to let me know they didn’t think that sharing a cycle would be a good idea and they wouldn’t be passing that on to the couple; I wasn’t disappointed. I kind of laughed it off and went on with my life.
A week later the agency called again though, and this call took my breath away. Upon hearing about my situation, the couple had gotten on the phone with the coordinator and taken turns expressing their hopes and gratitude for me. They had told the coordinator that they felt as though they owed me children, and said I had given them a gift that no one else could ever even begin to match. They went on to describe their perfect 1 ½ year old twins, and to state that I (yes, they actually gave me credit for this) had helped to create two of the most amazing children anyone had ever met. The father got on the line and asked if he could donate his sperm to me, because at least that would save me money and because “the two of us together had already created such miracles: replicating those children over and over again would be doing the world justice”. They then brought up the idea of splitting a cycle themselves, and offered to sign an agreement stating that my getting pregnant would be the number 1 priority. They wanted to guarantee that no matter what, I would get a set number of eggs. If some were then left over for them; great. Either way, they just wanted to pledge their efforts to assist me in whatever way they could, and to help me achieve the same dream I had helped to give to them.
When the coordinator was passing this information along to me, we were both crying. She said that she initially thought doing a split cycle wasn’t a good idea, but that after talking to both of us she just thought we were all such amazing people, and that we could make this work. She pledged to give her services for free, and any others she could find through the agency. She just wanted to see us all come out the other end with what we needed, and she felt that we were meant to be in each other’s lives this way.
I immediately declined the sperm offer. I didn’t like the idea of us each having sets of 100% biological siblings. I can’t explain it, because technically my children will share genetics with theirs no matter what, but the idea of them being 100% biologically related just made me more uneasy then the idea of the 50% ever did. I was always fine with my genetics being out there, because I think there is so much more to motherhood than genes (and I feel strongly that their mother is the one who has been “mom” to them since the day of conception), but knowing my children had full siblings out there would just be one of those things that would make me feel guilty, for reasons I really can’t explain.
But the rest of it? I asked if I could have the weekend to think about it; I needed time to digest.
I thought long and hard, and over that weekend I fell in love with the possibilities. I started to feel like this family was supposed to be in my life; like we were somehow going to become friends. I don’t know why I thought that, because everything with this entire scenario has always been anonymous (and no one has ever suggested it would ever be different) but suddenly I pictured meeting. I pictured us cycling together, and being equally invested in the outcomes of each other’s pregnancies. I saw her and I being connected forever, and two people standing by me who really got what I was going through. Two people who wanted it as badly as I did.
The financial help would have, of course, been beneficial; but what I liked more was the idea of this camaraderie. I wanted to do this with them. I wanted to help them build their family, and to have them rooting for me as I built mine. I wanted to meet their children; not in the sense of claiming them, but in the sense of possibly getting a glimpse into what my own children may be like. I wanted to know them, and I thought that if I did this, if we did this together; we may all come out the other end family.
I called the agency the following Monday and explained my stipulations: My cycle would still have to wait until November, so that I could be at the healthiest possible place for conception (they would therefore also have to wait until November), and we would have to do the entire cycle in Seattle, where I had already found myself comfortable with the staff. Also, I wanted their doctor to have the opportunity to review my medical records. I didn’t want them agreeing to any of this until they fully understood how damaged I really was. I wanted them to realize that they very possibly could sign off on all of this, and then I may only produce 6 eggs; of which they would get none. I wanted full disclosure. I wanted them to have the opportunity to tell me “no”.
They came back and agreed to everything. They still wanted to do this.
That was a little less than two months ago. I hadn’t written about it, because no legal documents have been signed yet. And because, there have still been doubts in my head. As much as I loved this idea, there has still been a voice whispering to me that it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t want to write about it until I knew for sure, and I haven’t felt that confident about it once.
I spoke to my RE about my plans over a month ago, and she advised me strongly against it. She explained to me that eggs don’t equal embryos, and that embryos don’t equal babies. She pointed to my own experience, and the fact that out of the 28 eggs I donated; only 2 became babies. She asked me how I would feel if I only wound up with 6 eggs for myself, and none of those even developed into embryos. How I would feel if, in the end, I still had to do another cycle by myself. She said in my case (right now) she thinks I have more than one cycle in me if necessary, but that no one understands why my case was so aggressive and devastating in the first place. She said she would like to believe that I have more than one cycle, but that no one can make me any guarantees.
Then she asked me the question I had been too afraid to ask myself: How would I feel if I did this, and they got pregnant and I didn’t?
When I first donated, I was asked how I would feel if somewhere down the line I found myself infertile. My answer was simple: That I would still never regret my decision to donate. I was thankful to find that I still felt that way, even after my diagnosis. No one could have ever looked at me and said “you are one day going to have a very difficult time conceiving.” My endometriosis was undetectable at the time, and I had perfect insides. Every test I went through, I passed with flying colors. I was the ideal donor, and no one could have ever foreseen that one day I wouldn’t be. I won’t regret assisting in the creation of two children who are loved and adored by two parents. I won’t ever look back on that decision with remorse.
But, now? If I did this now, and they got pregnant and I didn’t? If I never got pregnant after this? I would never forgive myself. I would never be able to be OK with that decision. I know this. I know it in the bottom of my heart.
I know I cannot split this cycle.
I spoke to the social worker about this a few weeks ago as well, and she told me she thought I had my answer. Still, I’ve been sitting on it. I’ve been weighing and re-weighing the options. I’ve been beating myself up, trying to find a way to feel OK with being selfless, and to tell myself that I could survive it if they conceived and I didn’t. But I can’t. I can’t convince myself of that. I know it isn’t true.
I wrote the coordinator this week, and asked for her thoughts. Her response was short and sweet. She said that from day one she has said that I needed to look out for me, and that the most important factor here now is that I get pregnant. She said she loved the idea of us all cycling together as well, but not as much as she loves the idea of me having a child; no matter what needs to occur to make that happen. She did ask me to make a decision one way or another soon though, so that the family isn’t waiting around for me.
I want to write them a letter. I want to tell them how much their kind words meant to me, and how strongly I felt about wanting to help them again. I want to thank them for their generosity and caring, and assure them that I will be forever grateful for the ways in which they wanted to help me. But, I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to apologize for wasting the last two months of their quest for children, and I don’t know how to explain how scared I am of their success and my failure. I don’t know how to apologize to the people who have babies with pieces of me, and who want nothing more than to add to that family.
I don’t know how to tell them “no” when every core of my being knows exactly how they feel.
ADSPACE
