“You cannot use your time to the best advantage if you do not make some sort of plan.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt 

December 2015

“You have only a 10-12% chance of having your own genetic child.”

“You have only a 10-12% chance of having your own genetic child.”

“You have only a 10-12% chance of having your own genetic child.”

I will NEVER forget these words and the way I felt after hearing this from my IVF physician in September 2015. I heard these words over and over in my mind for many months following that appointment. I asked myself the same questions over and over again…

  • How could this be happening?
  • How could my biggest dream have another obstacle within it? 
  • Why was this happening? 
  • Wasn’t it enough that I had to use a sperm donor? 
  • How would I EVER pick an egg donor?? 

This went on for many months and I cried many tears. I felt a lot of loss during this time as I am sure all other women in my position have felt. It still brings tears to my eyes. Throughout my soul searching I kept coming back to one image – me as a mother. It was clear, I needed a plan.

I spent many days near the ocean as I came to terms with my situation. The ocean brought me a sense of peace and acceptance. Here is where I found the strength to keep moving ahead. 


I slowly began to look for an egg donor. I’m not going to lie, this was a big mind F$&K!!  There was no one like me – someone who looked like me, shared my  likes and dislikes, shared the same heritage. It felt impossible to pick someone. I was overwhelmed and frankly so sad about my situation. It was the little  things – my green eyes, my freckles, my height, the certainty around my health background. There was so much to consider. I felt sick each time I looked for a donor. 

Cautiously I continued my search and I kept coming back to one woman in particular. We looked somewhat alike, but she wasn’t me. We had similar interests, but she wasn’t me. It went on and on. To be honest, I was so so scared. Picking an egg donor was much scarier than picking a sperm donor. 

In December 2015 I finally selected the donor. She was as close as I was going to get. I liked certain things about her – she seemed happy, we shared some similar features, we were interested in simiair activities, she was smart, she was healthy and she had demonstrated pregnancies from her previous 5 donations. 

Yes, 5 DONATIONS!!! And, most important, she was an open donor. This meant I could meet her and she was open to  meeting my child one day should they desire this. 

As I closed out 2015 I had a plan… the journey toward motherhood moved forward. 

First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage, Then Comes The Baby In The Baby Carriage…

December 2014…

Since August I had been thinking a lot about my situation. I really had envisioned a sense of relief by freezing my eggs, but that feeling never came.  

I never in a million years thought I would be making a decision to actually have a baby by myself either via adoption or artificial insemination. 

 As little girls we are taught that when you have a baby you do this with your husband.  Your husband is by your side in a Lamaze class, your husband will tell you that you look beautiful as you carry your child, your husband will be in the delivery room encouraging you.  At least this is what I was taught and believed deep in my soul. 

 I remember being a little girl and singing, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage.”  Well, we see how that turned out.  I know that the times are different… blah, blah, blah.  



We are ingrained with these beliefs and when they turn out different it is scary and takes getting used to.  Changing this lens has been more difficult than I imagined. 

 I do know that I am tired of dating and if I am not willing to date then how can I meet someone?  I have been actively dating for 20 years and frankly, I am tired.  I just don’t have it in me anymore. This is a big dilemma.  One which suggests a pro-active decision must be made about a baby – either adopt or donor insemination.  Being a parent is not an option, this is something I will do. 

Of all the futures that I can imagine, I cannot image a single one that doesn’t have a child in it…

Day 1 -Egg Freezing 

Day 1 – July 2014 

Edit

The first morning has arrived. Not sure what I thought it would feel like. It is 7am and the women are reporting for blood work. I sit and watch them arrive. ‘Them’ as if I am not including myself. It kind of does feel like I am an observer from the outside looking in. 

Married, single, with a friend, one with her husband, lesbian partners. Different races and religions, brunettes, blondes. Wait, I’m the only blond… Let’s just say that highlights are my friend. Can’t get the Southern California out of me! 

Some read books, some thumb through magazines, some just stare off in the distance.

It feels somewhat like a factory. To the left you go for blood work. To the right you go to have a sonogram. What a mix of emotions is displayed in this waiting room.

I keep asking myself, “Why am I in this situation?” Not married, no kids. Is this a bad thing? Logically no, emotionally it is a different story. Hello logical mind are you there? Stop this thinking pronto!

At least I still have options. Truthfully, should have done this years ago. But, I didn’t and here I sit. 

Some women seem like they have done this before… Old hat.

$15,000 is the bill. Due before retrieval. 

 The couple and her sister (I think) have left looking defeated. They walk out in a single file line. My heart aches for them. You can see the sadness on their faces. Another couple checks out. She has tissues in her hand. More disappointed faces. 

 They call my name. The phlebotomist takes me back. Nice enough, although she doesn’t introduce herself. “Sit down, arm here,” she says with a smile. I do as I am told.

As I look around I notice a mural to the right of my head. Pictures of babies, babies, babies. I mean, really!?! They are working it! I don’t ask anything about the pictures, just sort of stare at the wall. Truthfully, the pictures kind of look old. 

 Back to the blood… ‘She’ (I still don’t know her name) proceeds to prepare me for the blood draw. In the needle goes. 15 seconds, it is over. Snap off the tourniquet and that is it.

“I will call you this afternoon,” ‘she’ says. “What is your name?” I inquire. “Jasmine (with a smile)”. Seems so transactional, but again, polite. 

Well folks, that is it. I am done. Just like that. At least I am getting service with a smile! 

 As I near the elevator I come across the man of the couple who was checking out. He stares off as he waits for his wife to come out of the restroom. I am willing to bet she is in the bathroom crying. Again, my heart hurts for her, them. 

 As I step in the elevator I remind myself that their stories are not mine, mine not theirs. I will be married and a parent one day. And hopefully they will too.

Photo credit – http://www.vogue.com