Copied from my previous blog, written on October 26, 2010.
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Getting to this point was not easy.
Folks, IVF might seem like an easy way to get pregnant. You whip up a few embryos in a petri dish and toss them back inside, right?
Well, sort of. Except, when you’re not using your own eggs, that means you have to rely on yet another person to make this whole thing work. The egg donor. Who has her own list of medications and timelines to follow and expectations to meet. Everything has to fall into perfect place at the perfect time to make the perfect embryo and if all of those things don’t happen just perfectly, you don’t make a baby.
Let me back up a bit. I matched with two of the most amazing people I have ever met, C and J, back in May of this year. That same month, I flew to the east coast where they live and got to be immersed in their world for a few days, getting to know them and their life and their dreams. Meeting them for the first time was like reuniting with an old friend and picking back up right where you left off. At the risk of sounding cliche, it was magical. I remember very vividly, my best friend and fellow surrogate who had gone with me taking out a photo of her surrogate twin boys and watching as C marveled at the photo and was almost in tears as he imagined some day having that joy with his husband.
I wanted to help them create a family with every fiber of my being after that meeting. I needed to help them.
After our amazing weekend came to a close, I traveled to Bridgeport, Connecticut where I completed a medical screening to determine if I was a fit candidate for surrogacy. I met the doctor who would be assisting us on this journey and toured his conception laboratories (I’m not kidding, that’s what it said on the door). After what seemed like an eternal wait (it was really only a week or so), I received the news that I was cleared and could proceed.
Hooray! On to the easy part!
Nope.
The guys had picked an egg donor before they ever matched with me and she had already screened and signed a contract with them so I thought it would be smooth sailing from that point on. It took about two months before I received a timeline from the clinic because it was about that long before we ironed out final contracts and had them signed. (And I will not be sad if I never have to deal with another attorney again.) Finally, in July, I got my timeline. I was to start Lupron via belly injection on July 24th. I would also take an estrogen supplement, a daily low-dose of aspirin and a prenatal vitamin. The transfer was scheduled for the week of September 6th. I had never been more excited to see a pack of syringes.
July 24th came and went and I spent a couple weeks adjusting to the medication and trying not to murder everyone in sight while I adjusted. Giving myself shots soon became second nature, as did fielding the questions that had started rolling in from well-meaning but very naive friends and family. I did a lot of explaining, a lot of myth de-bunking and a little bit of defending. It was hard because people wanted to make jokes or pretend it was a big game and that’s just so not respectful of what we as surrogates as well as our families sacrifice and endure to help another family. I’ve become good at the smile and nod.
Don’t get me wrong, the majority of my feedback is immensely supportive. I honestly don’t feel like I’m amazing or brave or any of the other words people have used to describe me. I’m one parent helping another because I feel like I was called to. I’m doing something that is bigger than myself. It’s that simple, really.
The end of August finally came and I waited with more impatience every day for the call from the clinic. I started monitoring appointments with a local clinic and pretty much put my life on hold in anticipation of what was to come. The first news came, and it was not good. The donor had been monitored and it was discovered that she had ovulated through the suppression medications. Our transfer would only be set back by about a week, but it was still a blow. So, more waiting.
I feel like I need to add something here about just how all-encompassing this experience became for me. In writing, the process really doesn’t sound difficult or stressful or anything. It doesn’t sound like much at all. But, it was. Oh… oh, it was. This impending pregnancy was at the forefront of my mind every single day for months. Schedules had to be juggled and sacrifices made in order for me to make my appointments and manage all the other details that come with surrogacy. And then, of course, all my excitement and apprehension and sometimes worry about whether or not this was really going to happen. There were many times that I felt that something was going to go wrong and that I’d invested months of my life for no real gain. It sounds dramatic but I’m a worrier and a planner by nature and I couldn’t help it. I hated absolutely hated not knowing every detail about when things would be happening. But, the world of surrogacy is hurry up and wait and I managed it the best I could. It was hard.
September 3rd. Evening. My phone rang and when I answered, my heart sank. It was the doctor from my clinic in Connecticut. An actual doctor calling you on a Friday night is never a good thing, and in this case it certainly wasn’t. I listened and tried not to cry as he told me that the donor was unfortunately not responding to the medications as they would like, and it was his medical advice that the guys cancel this cycle and look for a new donor.
I was upset. Very upset. I felt very silly and very wrong for even being upset when I know there are surrogates who wait much longer to realize their goal, but it still sucked. And I was still sad. Most of my sadness was for my IPs, who I can only imagine were devastated and emotionally spent. They in theory had to say goodbye to the potential mother of their future children, someone they had hand-picked and known and loved. They had a desire for a known donor, so they had a relationship with her. She wasn’t an anonymous picture in a catalog for them and that? That just sucks.
The waiting game began again as I gave the IPs time to look at their options and find a new donor that they loved as much as the first one. We anticipated that it could take weeks or even months. There was talk of our transfer not happening until after the new year, news that I really did not want to have to think about. I put it out of my mind and told them to take their time and find someone special.
As it turned out, the universe decided to throw us a bone. I don’t know if it was luck or fate, but the guys came across the profile of a donor who was already set with a timeline and her original IPs had backed out. If they matched with her, we could potentially only be pushed back by a month and transfer in October. I felt like it was almost too good to be true, but my fingers were crossed.
To skip to the point, that donor did indeed work out. I was overjoyed and MORE than ready to get the show on the road. At this point, I had been on Lupron for two months. I was ready. The guys were ready. So again, we began the waiting and appointments. Every time I was monitored, everything would come back perfect, which was such a relief. The donor was looking good as well, and finally, it really looked like things were going to work out this time.
As we had come to expect though, there was still a little drama and a little bit of a delay. The donor wasn’t responding to the meds as well as they had hoped, and I about lost my mind, afraid that the same thing was happening all over again. Not gonna lie, it was absolutely maddening, that wait. Things were so up in the air and that is SO not my nature. It was torture.
But, after long last, almost 7 months to the day into this crazy awesome journey, I boarded a plane for New York City, towards the guys, their growing embryos and the skilled hands of the doctor who was orchestrating it all. It all rested in such a delicate balance and I could feel it dancing along the clouds as we flew east through the sky.
To be continued.
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