Letter to my donor

I have some unfinished business I need to settle. For the longest time, I've been putting off writing a letter to my egg donor. You see, I picked her off of an egg donation website, and never actually met her face to face. I feel a little weird about that, and want to express to her that she is so much more than a contractually obligated ovum donor. So I finally drafted a thank you note. (The term thank you note sounds so inferior for such an important letter, doesn't it?) Anyway, here it is, at least a first draft.

Dear XXXXX,

Let me start off this letter by letting you know it is a long time in the making, and I apologize for getting it to you so late. I’ve often sat daydreaming about what exactly it is I wanted to say to you, and how to say it. My name is XXXXX, and last December I was the lucky recipient of two embryos created with your eggs and my husband’s sperm. Today I am six and a half months pregnant with a baby that would not be here without your precious contribution.

When I first saw your profile last summer on XXXX, we were still at a place where my husband and I were dreaming, saving our money, and wondering if we ever would become parents. My journey to motherhood started six and a half long years before that, when I was first told that I had a problem. Strangely enough, I found out about my fertility issues when I was undergoing testing to become an egg donor for someone else (my sister). As you can imagine, those years were fraught with much emotional pain and suffering, as we tried treatment after treatment to get pregnant on our own. It took me a long time to make peace with the fact that egg donation might be the only way to our goal. Looking back now, I wonder why I let myself suffer so long. I am blessed beyond belief to be anxiously awaiting this miracle baby.

You might be wondering what it is that made me pick you. For starters, we have similar ethnic backgrounds. I am half Mexican, and the other half Danish and German. I have curly dark hair, and although it may sound silly, was hoping to find someone who might pass that trait on to my child as well.  I was thrilled when they told me you had already done this successfully before—anything to increase my chances and avoid more heartache. Beyond that, something inside of me just said “this is the one”. It’s such a surreal process, picking your egg donor, and I had to go with my gut.

I imagine it wasn’t totally easy for you, taking all the shots and making every appointment, especially since you had to travel to California. I hope you don’t think me rude for not meeting you face-to-face; it was something I struggled with deciding whether or not to do. In the end I thought it might be awkward for both of us, so I passed on the chance. We plan on being very open with our child about where they came from, so if he or she decides one day to communicate with you or meet you, I hope you would be open to that. Maybe then I could meet you too, and thank you in person.

You may think in donating your eggs that you were just doing a job, and probably glad to have it finished. But I want you to know that I never considered your role in this as that of just some paid attendant. Together, you, myself, and my husband have created a new life; and that to me is something magical, significant, and blessed by God. 

So although the words seem hardly sufficient, thank you for making this all possible. I wish you the very best in life; and trust that in treasuring your own child/children, you will know exactly what this all has meant to me. 

So, what do you all think?

What pregnancy looks like

For me, pregnancy looks pretty much what non-pregnancy looks like. Meaning a slightly flabby belly that still fits into my size 8 jeans (albeit snuggly). I'm at 21 weeks now, folks, well into my second trimester. And what do I have to show for it? A pile of hand-me down maternity clothes I fear I'll never use.  


A woman I met this weekend actually patted my belly in that adoring way women do when they find out you are pregnant. This is the first time this has happened to me. I won't say I was bothered by it (I know this can be a point of contention for some women but for me, I say finally, hallelujah!) However, it was slightly awkward because to the casual observer, it might have looked like she was just congratulating me on finishing a whole cheesecake. 


Well, there are other ways to know when a woman is pregnant, right? Like when she "glows". Now I'm not sure if I'm glowing or not, but at least I'm not green with nausea anymore. I see that as a step in the right direction. Or when she waddles. My husband accused me of starting to waddle last week but truth be told, I was just gassy and exhausted and trying to shake out a leg cramp. Also, when she wears one of these:

Now I've looked through the boxes of hand-me-downs and I can't for the life of me find one of these. Luckily my mommy friends have better taste than that. And that's probably a good thing, because I'm starting to get desperate on my morning commute ferryboat ride for an empty seat, and why can't people see that I'm 21 weeks pregnant as I lovingly rub my muffin top?!? Is chivalry completely dead? 


My sister actually suggested even though I can fit pretty comfortably into my own clothes, that I start wearing the maternity clothes anyway "for the fun of it". Now I don't know about you, but I do have my limits, and I will not resort to wearing pants with that stretchy panel thingie I'd have to stuff with onesies just so people will be nicer to me. Besides, I'd hate to suffer some kind of pre-natal wardrobe malfunction. Like what if those big pants drop to my ankles as I'm running to cross the street before the light turns red? Mortifying. And potentially dangerous to my unborn child.


So for now, I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with the fact that yes, my baby is growing normally even if I'm not (phew!). And, I will have my reward, it's just that it's not due for another 19 weeks or so. But until then, I might have to get myself one of these:

My status

Too.... nauseous.... to........  blog.*


*Disclaimer: I always said if I ever became pregnant that I would never complain about it. But I have to admit, being pregnant is harder than I thought (especially if you're approaching 41, work full-time, and commute 2.5 hours a day). I can hear all my friends who are mothers saying "I told you so."

Ohmigosh!? And also... an update.

I logged into blogger the other day for the first time in a while, and HOLY HELL I have all these new comments! Thank you, LFCA! So if any of you out there are still reading, I just want to say how grateful I am to you for reading, and for congratulating me, and for generally being awesome. Maybe it's the hormones, but I'm feeling a bit verklempt. What would I do without knowing that there exists this amazing army of women in a very similar boat as me, powering thru as proudly and earnestly as they can, at the same time giving me strength thru their struggles? Does that make any sense? If not, cut me some slack because HORMONES. 


On the pregnancy front... today marks the beginning of week 10. WEEK TEN—we're in the double digits, folks! And yet I still have moments where this hasn't quite sunken in yet. According to the experts, my babee is a little over an inch long, the size of a kumquat, and is starting to grow fingernails. At least, that's what today's ultrasound showed. 


Speaking of ultrasounds... there's nothing like seeing that little being actually moving around, heart beating strongly, making himself at home. But afterwards, when the doc prints out the picture? All I see is fuzz. I've had 4 of them now, and each one is like a new rorshach test waiting to be decoded. I show my sister and mother the pics, and they kinda scratch their heads, nod, and politely offer a little "Ahhh...Mmm-hmm". A definite "you had to be there" moment.  


Case in point: Ultrasound #2. It sorta looks baby-ish, if you squint and rotate your head 10 degrees. But when I go back and look at it, I'm just reminded of a certain 80s video game. 

I'm thinking I shouldn't have played so much Attari in my youth. 

I don't know how to write this post.

Trying to get pregnant for six and a half years can really take its toll on a woman's life. There was a time once when I felt nothing but hope and possibility with every new doctor, treatment, or supplement I tried. But time and repeated failure have a way of hardening you, of making you immune to faith and belief.  


Which is why, even after 2 successful betas and 2 subsequent ultrasounds, I'm still having a hard time believing that I am pregnant.


I am pregnant. 


I AM PREGNANT!!