Well, damn.
A few days ago, I ran into a problem. I have an impacted wisdom tooth. And I am severely underselling it when I say it fucking hurts like a sonofabitch. I'm on a round of antibiotics right now, and it's slowly but surely helping, but I'm also getting it extracted next week.
I was sitting outside tonight and i suddenly got worried that this may impede the donation process. I'm going to call the clinic tomorrow to ask them about it, because I can also feel my period creeping up on me, and the third day of my period is when I have to go get my fertility tested. Since I know nothing about medical shit, I'm kind of worried that I'll have to wait another month before getting fully listed in the donation program.
Since I have been in an overwhelming amount of pain, I didn't get to write about my first experience in the clinic.
I was really pleased when I went to the clinic to fill out all of my paperwork. It's REALLY nice. I wasn't expecting a slovenly hell hole by any means, but I wasn't expecting it to be as beautiful and expansive as it was.
So, here's the play by play for my first consult with the clinic.
I had a bit of a personality interview with one of the donor nurses, who is now my personal donor nurse. She was super friendly, and she made me feel really comfortable. We went into one of the doctor's offices, and she explained the process to me in great detail. I stopped her to ask appropriate questions, and she told me she was impressed with my (self-admittedly limited knowledge) of the possible dangers of the process. We spoke about OHSS (ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome) and how it's incredibly rare, but how they also very closely monitor you to ensure that it doesn't become an issue. I asked her how many of the current donors get chosen, because I like to deal with things in percentages, and she told me that 1. I was very likely to be chosen because I'm good looking with a solid, healthy family history and 2, that the few girls who hadn't been chosen had more than likely gone unclaimed because they were kind of overweight (as a sidenote, I tried to explain this to my father and he told me that looks shouldn't enter into the equation, and egg is an egg and it's more than these women had at their disposal before hand so they should just be grateful that some fat girl is willing to part with her eggs. I told him that while his insensitive thought is at it's core completely correct, when it comes down to it, these women are paying for their baby, and nobody wants to drop money at the prospect of an ugly child). She thinks I'll be snatched up as a donor fairly quickly.
I filled out quite a bit of paperwork, mostly relating to my family's health history as opposed to mine. We went over the actual egg retrieval procedure, and all of the no-no's that come with egg donation. My least favorite was no new sex partners. Looks like that interracial gang bang fantasy I've been wanting to fulfill will have to be put on hold for awhile longer. Shucks.
I filled out a fun little personality survey, as well. Kind of like those surveys you'd do on facebook when you're unbelievably bored at work. She said a lot of the recipients like to know a bit about the people they're getting eggs from, aside from the how old the people in their families are when they die bits. I won't lie, I was really tempted to fill all of the answers out with things I've enjoyed that make me sound amazingly intellectual. But in the end, I just went with who I actually am.
They assigned me an ID number to go by whenever I call the clinic. I didn't know that I wouldn't be allowed to refer to myself as myself. When I call in, I give them my number instead of my name. When I sign in to the clinic, I sign in with my number instead of my name. I truly am as anonymous as I can be.
They gave me the name of their clinic shrink, because I do have to go through a therapy session before they completely put me on the donor list. That appointment is on April 22nd. And that was about it. Basically, it was like any job interview, but there was no pressure and I felt completely confident.
Now, I just have to wait until I get my period to call them so I can go in and get my fertility tested. One of the positives for me is that my profile gets a little note on it that says I'm already proven as quite fertile, sine I've had so many pregnancies. It's totally true, my uterus just likes to carry shit around.
Like I said earlier, I can feel my period coming on. So hopefully in the next few days, I'll be posting about getting my fertility tested and how all of that went.
Until then, I'm off to nurse my swollen fucking face.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
One order of over easy eggs, hold the bacon
Ok, so, in the last year that I've spent doing thorough research on egg donation, I've run across several blogs written by donors detailing their experiences. They were invaluable to me, and I thought that I would do one, as well. To be honest, I already fancy myself as a pretty decent writer. BUT, I've been immensely lazy about writing for the last...oh...year or so. This will give me a reason to write much more often, and will hopefully get me back into the swing of writing so I can finish all of my other written projects. But enough about that.
Most of the blogs I read about egg donation were kept anonymous, and I get that. But anonymity isn't my bag when I have a choice.
My name is Ondrea. I'm a 26 year old that's dreading turning 27 because it's three years closer to thirty and my GOD, that is fucking OLD. I have two beautiful children. My daughter Rhyann is going to be eight in September, and my son Gabriel is going to be four in July. I'm single, never married, and not particularly interested in changing that. For all intents and purposes, I've lived a fairly charmed life. There have been extremely rough patches, and I've dealt with my share of heartache, just like everyone else in the world. But for the most part, I've been lucky enough to get just about everything I've ever wanted. This is mostly because not only am I driven to get the things I want, but because I'm also very good at manipulating the things and people around me to make the things I want attainable. This is as good a lead in as any to jump into why I want to do this so much.
Very few people I've come across have been as lucky as I am when it comes to making friends who accept you exactly as you are. I've had my run ins with people that I thought were lifers, and it turns out they weren't. Not that I'm thankful for the time they invested in me, or the things they taught me, because I am. But for some reason or another, they just needed to not be friends with me anymore. Of course, I feel the pangs of disappointment when this happens, but I get over it fairly quickly. Perhaps that makes me callous, but I think it has more to do with knowing that the one friend I do have that IS a lifer completes me so wholly that I don't really need any other friends.
Her name is Amber. We've been best friends for 14 years now, which is quite a feat. She is, simply put, the most amazing person in my life, and I would be an empty shell if I didn't have her anymore. Our friendship is more detailed and intimate than most marriages. We know the good of each other, we know the worst of each other, and best of all, we love each other anyways. Keep this in mind, because it's important later on.
I got pregnant with my daughter when I was 18 years old. It wasn't something I planned on, the pregnancy was not something I wanted. I had beautiful visions of graduating from Duke and marrying my two passions: writing and travel. I never saw myself as a doting mother or a loving wife. I remember seeing the pregnancy test and thinking to myself, "Mother fucker, this isn't who I'm supposed to be." and then having a panic attack over the rest of my life being spent bored to tears at PTA meetings, picking out first day of school outfits, and chaperoning school functions. How fucking terrifying and BORING. But, at 18, the thought of having an abortion broke my heart. Moreover, it scared me. My head takes me to places above and beyond reality, so I convinced myself that if I got an abortion, I would fucking die and my family would be so ashamed of me that they'd throw my dead body under a train to save on funeral costs. I didn't have the foresight to research my options, and had I known that adoption was something I could have done, I would have in a heartbeat. But I didn't. I had my daughter. I was a terrible mother, and I know this enough to say it with only a little bit of shame. I wish I could have been different, but that doesn't matter.
My daughter's father knocked me up three more times after I had her, and each time I got an abortion. To label me as one of those women who used abortion as a method of birth control would be cruel and inaccurate. That wasn't my intention. I was just a stupid teenager that didn't think about the things she was doing. Also, I hated my daughter's father and the thought of having any more children with him didn't frighten me, it made me fucking nauseous.
After I left him, I met my son's father. He knocked me up twice, both pregnancies resulting in abortions, before I got pregnant with my son and said that I didn't have it in me to do that again. I looked up other options, and we mutually settled on adoption. While my initial plans of seeing the world and writing about it had changed, I still had other things I wanted to do, and another failed attempt at motherhood wasn't one of them. But the longer I was pregnant with my son, the more I couldn't bear the thought of giving him up. I knew myself well enough to know that I would never be the shining example of a mother that other women are, but I knew I could be better this time around. I had my son four years ago. I may not be the best mother, but I do love being his mom. It makes me happy. And I've learned that being a mother doesn't mean that I have to DEFINE myself as a mother. I'm more than that, and I can comfortably be as much of who I see myseslf as in conjunction with that.
In summation, I've had seven pregnancies, all of which I didn't want and didn't have to try for, and all of which culminated in me getting my tubes tied at the age of 23 because I'm just too fucking fertile and too undesiring of the picket fence life to have any more children that I had to coerce myself into wanting.
Now, Amber is a different story. Amber wanted a marriage, and she and her husband wanted a family. She and her husband (my cousin, as well, so she is now a legitimate part of my family and I couldn't be more pleased) started trying a few years ago and were met with that dreaded brick wall that is a nightmare to any couple trying to concieve: Fertility problems. For years, I watched her chart. And temperature take. And lament. And worry about never having children, and take all the blame on herself for not making her and her husband's family dreams come true. And through all of her tears and her concerns and her absolute heartbreak, she never once judged me for getting my tubes tied, or spoke ill of me for just tossing away the babies I didn't want that she so desperately did. for this alone, she should be canonized. she's a fucking saint, because I get horribly bitter and jealous on the rare occasions when I witness someone getting something I want and can't have.
A couple of years ago, I started to feel immensely guilty. I was painfully aware of what a fucking shitbag I was. Here I am, a woman that not only has the ability to get pregnant every time a man looks at me, but a woman who also can CHOOSE a life of pregnancy or non-pregnancy, and chose the latter. AND told my best friend about my choice because, and I quote myself with disdain, "I just fucking hate being pregnant. It blows. And I don't want any more kids." What a disgusting, soulless thing for me to do.
Thank God that Amber has been blessed with a beautiful son, my very first godchild. Because that guilt was slowly crushing me. I was finding it hard to look myself in the mirror without cringing at the person looking back at me for having no regard for anybody's suffering but my own. Announcing my selfish choices without thinking of how it could make anybody else feel.
And that is exactly why I want to donate my eggs.
Somewhere, there is a married couple made up of a husband that dreams of having a child to protect. A wife that WANTS to sit through those boring PTA meetings. And because fate can be a cruel, cruel thing, they cannot do this without help. This couple wants this so badly that they're willing to pay thousands upon thousands of dlollars just on the HOPE that someone else's egg will work. It's taking a huge leap of faith on a wish. I have never had that much courage in my entire life, about anything. I had the choice to give up babies that this couple cannot have on their own. I exercised that choice with reckless abandon while this couple mourned the empty seats at their dining room table. And now I have the ability to turn that around and fill someone's home with all of the things about parenthood that I never wanted, and take for granted every day. Thank God there's a way for me to atone for my selfishness and poor decision making. Thank God. Because I don't know what I'd do with myself if I couldn't.
don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to paint myself as this saintly, selfless woman. I'm not. I'm horribly flawed and tremendously selfish. Saying that getting a fat check at this has no meaning to me would be a lie. I'm very much looking forward to a financial reward for my time and effort.
But honestly, I think if they told me tomorrow that I wouldn't be able to get 5,500 for donating my eggs, I'd still do it.
At the end of the day, I miss being proud of the person I look at when I brush my teeth, and I miss not feeling like my soul is blemished because I make bad choices based on selfish motivations. Had I been able to give my eggs to Amber, I would have done it in a heartbeat for no compensation. But I am more than happy to give them to some couple I will never meet, and I feel so beyond amazing knowing that someone, without knowing me, is staking their happiness on this selfish 26 year old. God bless them, and I wish them the best.
Most of the blogs I read about egg donation were kept anonymous, and I get that. But anonymity isn't my bag when I have a choice.
My name is Ondrea. I'm a 26 year old that's dreading turning 27 because it's three years closer to thirty and my GOD, that is fucking OLD. I have two beautiful children. My daughter Rhyann is going to be eight in September, and my son Gabriel is going to be four in July. I'm single, never married, and not particularly interested in changing that. For all intents and purposes, I've lived a fairly charmed life. There have been extremely rough patches, and I've dealt with my share of heartache, just like everyone else in the world. But for the most part, I've been lucky enough to get just about everything I've ever wanted. This is mostly because not only am I driven to get the things I want, but because I'm also very good at manipulating the things and people around me to make the things I want attainable. This is as good a lead in as any to jump into why I want to do this so much.
Very few people I've come across have been as lucky as I am when it comes to making friends who accept you exactly as you are. I've had my run ins with people that I thought were lifers, and it turns out they weren't. Not that I'm thankful for the time they invested in me, or the things they taught me, because I am. But for some reason or another, they just needed to not be friends with me anymore. Of course, I feel the pangs of disappointment when this happens, but I get over it fairly quickly. Perhaps that makes me callous, but I think it has more to do with knowing that the one friend I do have that IS a lifer completes me so wholly that I don't really need any other friends.
Her name is Amber. We've been best friends for 14 years now, which is quite a feat. She is, simply put, the most amazing person in my life, and I would be an empty shell if I didn't have her anymore. Our friendship is more detailed and intimate than most marriages. We know the good of each other, we know the worst of each other, and best of all, we love each other anyways. Keep this in mind, because it's important later on.
I got pregnant with my daughter when I was 18 years old. It wasn't something I planned on, the pregnancy was not something I wanted. I had beautiful visions of graduating from Duke and marrying my two passions: writing and travel. I never saw myself as a doting mother or a loving wife. I remember seeing the pregnancy test and thinking to myself, "Mother fucker, this isn't who I'm supposed to be." and then having a panic attack over the rest of my life being spent bored to tears at PTA meetings, picking out first day of school outfits, and chaperoning school functions. How fucking terrifying and BORING. But, at 18, the thought of having an abortion broke my heart. Moreover, it scared me. My head takes me to places above and beyond reality, so I convinced myself that if I got an abortion, I would fucking die and my family would be so ashamed of me that they'd throw my dead body under a train to save on funeral costs. I didn't have the foresight to research my options, and had I known that adoption was something I could have done, I would have in a heartbeat. But I didn't. I had my daughter. I was a terrible mother, and I know this enough to say it with only a little bit of shame. I wish I could have been different, but that doesn't matter.
My daughter's father knocked me up three more times after I had her, and each time I got an abortion. To label me as one of those women who used abortion as a method of birth control would be cruel and inaccurate. That wasn't my intention. I was just a stupid teenager that didn't think about the things she was doing. Also, I hated my daughter's father and the thought of having any more children with him didn't frighten me, it made me fucking nauseous.
After I left him, I met my son's father. He knocked me up twice, both pregnancies resulting in abortions, before I got pregnant with my son and said that I didn't have it in me to do that again. I looked up other options, and we mutually settled on adoption. While my initial plans of seeing the world and writing about it had changed, I still had other things I wanted to do, and another failed attempt at motherhood wasn't one of them. But the longer I was pregnant with my son, the more I couldn't bear the thought of giving him up. I knew myself well enough to know that I would never be the shining example of a mother that other women are, but I knew I could be better this time around. I had my son four years ago. I may not be the best mother, but I do love being his mom. It makes me happy. And I've learned that being a mother doesn't mean that I have to DEFINE myself as a mother. I'm more than that, and I can comfortably be as much of who I see myseslf as in conjunction with that.
In summation, I've had seven pregnancies, all of which I didn't want and didn't have to try for, and all of which culminated in me getting my tubes tied at the age of 23 because I'm just too fucking fertile and too undesiring of the picket fence life to have any more children that I had to coerce myself into wanting.
Now, Amber is a different story. Amber wanted a marriage, and she and her husband wanted a family. She and her husband (my cousin, as well, so she is now a legitimate part of my family and I couldn't be more pleased) started trying a few years ago and were met with that dreaded brick wall that is a nightmare to any couple trying to concieve: Fertility problems. For years, I watched her chart. And temperature take. And lament. And worry about never having children, and take all the blame on herself for not making her and her husband's family dreams come true. And through all of her tears and her concerns and her absolute heartbreak, she never once judged me for getting my tubes tied, or spoke ill of me for just tossing away the babies I didn't want that she so desperately did. for this alone, she should be canonized. she's a fucking saint, because I get horribly bitter and jealous on the rare occasions when I witness someone getting something I want and can't have.
A couple of years ago, I started to feel immensely guilty. I was painfully aware of what a fucking shitbag I was. Here I am, a woman that not only has the ability to get pregnant every time a man looks at me, but a woman who also can CHOOSE a life of pregnancy or non-pregnancy, and chose the latter. AND told my best friend about my choice because, and I quote myself with disdain, "I just fucking hate being pregnant. It blows. And I don't want any more kids." What a disgusting, soulless thing for me to do.
Thank God that Amber has been blessed with a beautiful son, my very first godchild. Because that guilt was slowly crushing me. I was finding it hard to look myself in the mirror without cringing at the person looking back at me for having no regard for anybody's suffering but my own. Announcing my selfish choices without thinking of how it could make anybody else feel.
And that is exactly why I want to donate my eggs.
Somewhere, there is a married couple made up of a husband that dreams of having a child to protect. A wife that WANTS to sit through those boring PTA meetings. And because fate can be a cruel, cruel thing, they cannot do this without help. This couple wants this so badly that they're willing to pay thousands upon thousands of dlollars just on the HOPE that someone else's egg will work. It's taking a huge leap of faith on a wish. I have never had that much courage in my entire life, about anything. I had the choice to give up babies that this couple cannot have on their own. I exercised that choice with reckless abandon while this couple mourned the empty seats at their dining room table. And now I have the ability to turn that around and fill someone's home with all of the things about parenthood that I never wanted, and take for granted every day. Thank God there's a way for me to atone for my selfishness and poor decision making. Thank God. Because I don't know what I'd do with myself if I couldn't.
don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to paint myself as this saintly, selfless woman. I'm not. I'm horribly flawed and tremendously selfish. Saying that getting a fat check at this has no meaning to me would be a lie. I'm very much looking forward to a financial reward for my time and effort.
But honestly, I think if they told me tomorrow that I wouldn't be able to get 5,500 for donating my eggs, I'd still do it.
At the end of the day, I miss being proud of the person I look at when I brush my teeth, and I miss not feeling like my soul is blemished because I make bad choices based on selfish motivations. Had I been able to give my eggs to Amber, I would have done it in a heartbeat for no compensation. But I am more than happy to give them to some couple I will never meet, and I feel so beyond amazing knowing that someone, without knowing me, is staking their happiness on this selfish 26 year old. God bless them, and I wish them the best.
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