Invasion of the Body Snatcher: Month 1

A week and a half ago I found out that I'm pregnant. Holy crap. No need for congratulations - it wasn't exactly some feat of accomplishment. In fact, the running joke in my house is that it was the first thing my husband did when he came home.

You know what the craziest thing is? It should not be that much harder to get into grad school than it is to become someone's parent.

I debated whether or not I wanted to post about this on the blog or keep it a secret until the rest of the IRL people knew. But the advice and support available to me offline is pretty limited and I figured what the hell. If something bad happens, I'd probably post about it on here anyway.

I did not expect it to happen that fast. Not in a million years. That said, the timing of it is perfect because I'll be due in June and I get summers off from work. I was 2 days away from calling my GYN and asking for a new Rx for the pill when the test came back positive. It's amazing how that works out.

So here I am, 8 weeks pregnant this coming Monday. I'm not sick at all which is fantastic, but I do get cramps like a motherfucker and I'm not allowed to take anything stronger than Tylenol. Not even extra-strength Tylenol. I am also exhausted most of the time. I told my husband that getting out of bed in the morning is like trying to re-animate a corpse with nothing but a set of jumper cables and a D battery. I sleep like shit, getting and staying comfortable is nearly impossible, and it doesn't help when 4am finds you down on all fours on the floor trying not to cry as your uterus throws a violent temper tantrum inside your abdomen.

Nope, not a whole lot of sunshine and roses here. Nosirree.

I am also a complete and total airhead. I knew the stereotype of the pregnant brain and all that, but holy shit they weren't kidding. I have all but left the house without pants on. The other day I was driving on the highway, moved over into the right lane because my exit was less than a mile away. And in that .75 mile or so distance, I forgot what I was doing and drove right by the exit ramp. That has never happened to me in. my. life.

I went out and bought the obligatory What To Expect When You're Expecting. It's pretty boring, but I appreciate the information. My other book, though, was worth every last damn penny I spent on it, and that is The Girlfriends Guide To Pregnancy. HI-LAR-I-OUS. Author Vicki Iovine is now my idol. The wit and humor in that book is so fantastic and needed that I haven't been able to put it down. In fact, I am currently reading the section on what to bring to the hospital even though I am 9 months away from that point. I just can't stop reading.

Something I wasn't expecting:

I have been cool as a cucumber about this whole thing. Not overly excited and yuppie-psycho, but not pessimistic and brooding either. I've been very zen - accepting it, allowing myself to be happy about it, willingly taking on the responsibility, mentally preparing myself for the possibility that it might not work out this time around.

Yesterday afternoon I saw the slightest potential sign of something going wrong. I knew on a rational level that it was 99% likelihood of nothing and that I was probably being paranoid. But when the possibility entered my head that I might lose the pregnancy and it felt as if I had some evidence right in front of me, I lost my shit.

I always thought, given what I know about my family's reproductive history, that I could face something like that with the understanding that it is not my fault, that it happens, that it's so early, etc. But when you're looking that demon in the eye, it's a totally different fucking story. It was in that moment that I got to feel what it's like to be a mother instead of just the earthly vessel that I feel like the rest of the time.

Everything is fine. At least for now and as far as I know. My first appointment isn't until 11/10 and next week I have to get the H1N1 vaccine since my job requires me to visit about 14 schools a week and some of them have just closed down due to the swine flu. Hopefully the vaccine doesn't make me sick because I've been running on E for weeks now.

Eggs & MiLs

I've got a couple of things going on that don't necessarily warrant their own posts, so I figured I would just combine them here. 

First, I am being asked to undergo another egg donation cycle that is covered under the same contract (which means I don't get $$ this time). I'm torn about this. I really don't want to let the intended parents down, but after the hell I went through last time I'm not sure I can do this. They keep telling me "It shouldn't happen again because now the clinic knows to give you less of the medication." To which I reply, "It wasn't supposed to happen LAST time, either. It was supposedly a 'remote possibility.'" Problem is, once you go into hyperstimulation, it can't be reversed. They can stop the cycle, which is incredibly dangerous, or you can ride the thing out. They want to do this toward the end of the summer, when my husband will still be gone. I sure as hell don't want to do it when he gets back, but I also don't want to be writhing in pain on the floor again, BY MYSELF. It sounds really shitty (and is troll-fuel), but if they were paying me this time I would be more inclined to do it, because then my potential suffering would at least finance a trip to Europe for me and my husband. In other words, it would provide a light at the end of the tunnel. I hate myself for feeling that way, but it's a lot of physical anguish to go through for people you've never met. Think of it like bone marrow donation - you are more likely to go through it voluntarily for a friend or a family member's benefit, but who would put themselves through that for a stranger? (Besides Will Smith in Seven Pounds.) I feel like I was lucky last time that no permanent damage happened. I feel like doing it a second time is pressing that luck. 

Also, A and I have been talking about starting to try to get pregnant this fall when he comes back. If I undergo the cycle in late August, it means pushing back any attempts by at least 8 weeks unless I want to risk an ectopic pregnancy or, even worse, twins. I'm also pretty sure that the major contributer to my weight gain over the past year was due to the last cycle. Not to mention the fact that in the middle of my last hormone-induced psychosis, I decided it would be a good idea to leave my husband. As you can imagine, he's not entirely thrilled about the idea of me doing this again. Lots of thinking to do....

The other issue is my mother in-law. I've written about this before, how I used to be extremely close with her and my FIL until last year when I moved out. A bombarded her with his impressions of what was going on - that I was having an affair, that I was lying to him, etc. She was given a lot of wrong information that has shaped her current negative feelings toward me. We've been emailing back and forth since he left. I asked to come and see her so we could talk, but she said she wasn't ready for that. I want so badly to explain things, even knowing that she isn't likely to believe me. I know she's pissed, but I want to be like "Listen! Don't you think you got some seriously biased information??? Do you think A would have gotten back together with me if all of that shit was true???"

But I can't do that. I am now outside the Circle of Trust. On some levels, I deserve to be where I am. I did choose to leave her son, after all. But she believes that I left her son for someone else, which isn't true. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe that has nothing to do with it and even knowing that's not true won't change her anger. Sometimes I feel like it's selfish and a waste to try to explain myself to her. Maybe I shouldn't even bother. 

She has offered to go to dinner the weekend we'll be visiting A at the base. It will just be me and her. I have no idea what to expect or how much pain I'm going to endure. I'm not sure I even know what to say. 

Ethics in Fertility

We've all heard about this woman, Nadya Suleman, and her octuplets. Most of us probably know that she already had 6 kids before the birth of 8 more (one of whom is autistic), that she used fertility treatments, lives with her parents, has no spouse/partner, and no income. 

First of all, I want to say the following:

1. I believe that all women have the right to decide how many children they have. 

2. I believe that financially stable single women have the right to seek fertility treatments in order to become mothers if that is what they choose. 

3. I believe that women have the right to choose whether or not to selectively abort any or all of the fetuses in their body. 

4. Nadya Suleman is certifiable. A complete wackaloon, in my opinion. 

Okay, now most of you know I have some experience with fertility medicine and what not.

It is my opinion that fertility treatments need to be administered with the same level of caution as adoption procedures. What do I mean by that? Well, a single woman or man cannot adopt a child unless they can prove that they are financially secure and stable and, quite frankly, can afford to raise a child on their own. Period. It's to ensure the quality of the environment for the child to be raised in. This woman has no income and already had 6 children, all of them living with her parents. She would not have qualified for adoption, she should not have qualified for fertility treatment. 

Secondly, it was completely fucking irresponsible for the clinic to have implanted 8 embryos in her uterus. They should be shut down for that fact ALONE. You implant 2, tops. If neither take, you implant 2 more. 8 is ridiculous. 

Thirdly, she is quoted as saying she afforded it because she "got paid for it." Since when does someone get paid for harvesting and freezing their own embryos? When I donated eggs, I signed a mandatory contract which stated the couple I donated to would own all the rights to the eggs harvested, for whatever purpose they deem appropriate - another child, donating to stem cell research, etc. How the fuck did this chick get paid for what she did? Was it experimental or something? How come no one can find out who she received these treatments from?

Now this woman has 14 children, no one to help her care for them, and no income. If she wanted to spend time with 14 kids, she should've started a daycare. Completely fucking irresponsible. All I can do is hope that none of these children suffer because of her stupid fucking decisions. 

On Being an Egg Farm

I've been meaning to blog about this experience for awhile, as most of you know. So on this cold January evening while I wait for my husband to return from work and subsequently drag me to Home Depot to look at shower doors, I figured what the hell. No time like the present!

I offer this knowledge to anyone who is considering becoming an egg donor or using one. When I was researching it I found very few accounts of what it was actually like, and the accounts I did find tended to be on donor agency websites....translation = useless and biased. Here's the truthful tale of what it's like to have your DNA harvested. 

Fig 1: My awesome DNA.

A little over a year ago, I received a message on myspace from a donor agency. I was immediately suspicious, but it was personally addressed to me and some research on the agency found it to be legit. I replied and asked for more information, including the all-important "why me" question. Turns out that a couple had been searching for awhile to find an egg donor who looked like the mother and possessed certain attributes that clinics do not approve of as legitimate donor criteria. 

What do I mean by that? Well, there have been no proven links between genetics and intelligence or educational achievement. That means that most fertility clinics do not include this information when intended parents are looking through donor profiles. The couple was using a highly reputable clinic, one of very few left in the country that allows couples to bring in a donor that they find on their own. That's where the agency came in. 

The only information I was willing to give the agent was my home phone number, (also the only thing she asked for) and she called me at home. She explained that I looked a LOT like the mother and that was what led her to contact me. The couple was offering more than 3x the average donor fee, plus all expenses including travel and medical. 

I was put in contact with the clinic, affiliated with a very major university so I knew this wasn't a scam. I filled out a very lengthy questionnaire, went in for a checkup to make sure that I could donate, everything came back fine and the intended parents decided that I was their donor. I received a check for $1k just for signing the contract, after my awesome fertility lawyer went through everything line by line over the course of 3 weeks. 

It took forever to get their surrogate's cycle all straightened out, so even though I was technically ready to go in January, none of the real stuff went down until the end of April. I got a call from the clinic to come in and get all my medications and to learn how to inject myself. 

For the next 3 weeks I was driving an hour each way to go to the clinic first thing in the morning for ultrasounds and blood work several times a week. 

I started on Lupron, injected once a day into my abdomen to prevent me from ovulating. Once my uterine lining was below a certain mark, I was ready to go with the hormones. I started taking Gonal-F in addition to the Lupron - so two injections every night. I didn't really have any side effects from either of the medications, though I was expecting to get loopy and whiny and all that. Nothing, it was totally fine. 

My first ultrasound went fine, I was progressing normally so they kept the medication dosage the same. But within a few days I started to feel extremely bloated, and there was so much pressure in my lower abdomen that it hurt to sit down. I went in for another ultrasound and the doctors were shocked: "You're carrying the same volume in your abdomen as a woman who is 14 weeks pregnant." But rather than schedule the retrieval right away, they kept me on the Gonal-F for another 2 days. By the time I went in for the retrieval I was so impatient just to be done with it. The night before I had to take one more injection, of the medication that would make me ovulate. I forget what it was called. 

Fig 3: What my ultrasound looked like. Except instead of a baby, it was all eggs.

The retrieval was quick and easy. I was put under twilight sedation, so even though I was awake I can't remember anything until I "woke up" in the clinic bed and they fed me crackers and juice. I went home, and short of some cramping I was fine. I had donated 36 eggs. A number that is practically unheard of. The intended parents must have been ecstatic, because most couples are lucky to get 10-12 out of the deal. 

The next day I started to feel like shit. Dizzy, the cramps seemed to get worse. I was bloated again even though I hadn't been when I left the office after the retrieval. By the next night, I was calling the clinic and they had me come in the following morning. 

I had gone into hyperstimulation. Apparently, my body is amazingly good at producing eggs. But because I had never donated before, the clinic didn't adjust the Gonal-F accordingly because they couldn't have known. It was a known risk, so I felt okay about it. But there was a huge amount of fluid collected in my abdomen and I was back to the 14wk pregnancy volume. I had to have a fluid reduction procedure, which was highly unpleasant. Nothing like sticking a huge needle up your no-no parts to turn you off to doctors. 

But once they were done sucking out the fluid, I felt a million times better. I had to stick around for them to do blood work though, because if my hematocrit level was too high I would have to be hospitalized. I had no idea what that meant, you physio and bio folks I'm sure could wax poetic about it. For those of you who were like me, apparently if your hematocrit level is too high, that means your blood is too concentrated because of fluid being deposited elsewhere (my abdomen in this case). Short version = blood is too thick. It was actually kinda scary to be told that, because I was at the clinic alone (an hour away from home) and the thought of being taken to a hospital so far away and by myself freaked me out.) But luckily the level was the minimum it needed to be for them to send me home. They said to keep them informed if anything changed. 

The next day I was bloated again and in a tremendous amount of pain. Literally, I would get attacks of cramps that forced me to my knees on the floor, crying. I had vicodin, percocet - nothing was helping. I went to the ER and had them call the clinic doctor on call who told them not to do anything to me except treat the pain. The logic was that they were going to pump me full of fluids, which was exactly what I did NOT need. 

At this point I was like "I am never doing this again....EVER." I went to the clinic again the next day, and they sucked out more of the fluid. I felt better, and the procedure was much less worse this time. (I had a female doctor who did it, and she took the time to wait for the numbing agent to work before sticking the needle in.) 

This turned out to be the last time I visited the clinic. After the final fluid reduction, I returned to normal. The first period I had after the whole ordeal was wicked heavy, but no more painful than normal. The clinic explained to me during my last visit that if I ever donated again, they would reduce the amount of Gonal-F I was taking so that the hyperstim would not occur. 

I have to say, after all was said and done I would do it again in a heartbeat. When I was in miserable pain I felt like it would never go away, and in my despair I felt like I wouldn't put myself through it. But now that I know it was temporary, it was totally worth it. 

I would never have sought out egg donation on my own. But they came to me, and offered me a disgusting amount of money to do it. I paid off all of my credit card debt, my car, and still had a substantial sum left over. I would be lying if I said I didn't do it for the money, because I had no other reason to do it. But the fact that I gave a couple a chance at making their dreams come true makes me smile every time I think about it. And they did as much for me as I did for them. My only concern had been whether it would affect my own fertility and I was assured by the doctors that it would not, as long as I complied with their instructions. 

They are completely anonymous to me. I didn't care if I was anonymous or not. Their lawyers have my information in a file, because I agreed that should the child ever want to meet me, I would be willing to do so. In exchange, they agreed to inform me that a live birth was successful and let me know what the child's sex was. This was info I felt like I needed to have, rather than just send off my DNA and never know what came of it. 

Forgot to add in the original post: Of my family, only my husband and my sister know that I did this. My mother has been aching for grandkids since I got married, and I felt like she would think it was slighting her to donate my eggs. I didn't want to deal with it and so I chose not to tell her. The rest I neglected to tell because I didn't think it was any of their business. A couple of extremely close friends know, but that's it. 

I haven't received any word yet, and don't expect to until later this year. I anticipate feeling very excited for them, and grateful that I was a part of something huge, even though my contribution was small.