Coming to Terms with the Idea of Using an Egg Donor

The first time the idea of egg donation was mentioned as even a remote possibility, I got very defensive.  Luckily, I was with my therapist and she knew to back track.

The second time it crossed my mind was in Dr. A’s office after my antral follicle count: my fear of not being able to use my own eggs was all-consuming.

The third time, when my sister announced she wanted to be an egg donor, my thought was, Okay, I bet this means I need an egg donor.

The fourth time, during the horror of learning that my genetic aberration could result in a physically and mentally disabled child.

There have been plenty of times I’ve thought about and discussed it since. Only two weeks ago I started registering for access to various egg donor databases to check it out, but I never thought it would be something I would seriously consider. I mean, why wouldn’t I try with my own eggs first? But much like browsing personal ads or reading obits, curiousity got the better of me. But how do you filtre 2,000 women to a manageable few?

I thought about what might be important to me. Trouble is, there’s no “Filtre Results by Similarity to Lauren” option. So I began by height: 5’8″ or above, please, because I am 6’1″. I figured that, if we were to use an egg donor, we might not want to be open about it, at least not at first. My rationale is, by maximising the chance of having a tall kid (DH is only 5’8″) we minimise scrutiny: the kid/s might not look anything like me, but if they are tall then the general public might not question our relationship.

Turns out there aren’t that many women over 5’8″, and only a couple appealed to me: one was 1/4 Greek and had stunning green eyes. Another looked more like me, but she lived in Texas, which would considerably increase the costs of an already expensive process. Both had great attitudes, were kind, artistic, and wrote thoughtful responses, but neither got me excited about the thought of using her genes in place of mine.

Because I haven’t even mentioned that I am in the Two Week Wait. We gave it a little go this cycle, figuring we would be starting IVF in early November. Our timing was good, but we didn’t use Pre-Seed, and I didn’t stay lying down for 20 minutes the way I normally do. I wanted to give it a shot, but I also felt unconcerned about conceiving this final cycle before IVF.  Later I smiled to myself–I keep hearing about ladies who conceive at the 11th hour, the month before their IVF is scheduled. Maybe I’d join those unlikely ranks too!

Then came the news that the lab expects “…the majority, possibly all…” of our embryos to be abnormal, and for the first time in my life I was horrified by the temperature dip this morning at 5dpo. What if I’m fucking pregnant? Because if I have spontaneously conceived, it is almost a sure thing that I will miscarry or learn my sweet baby is Recombinant. Am I really prepared to put myself through that experience again, physically and emotionally? What I want, a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby, could be possible another way…

I entered into a Twitter chat with a few ladies who are considering doing DEIVF (Donor Egg IVF), or have done it and are either pregnant or a mom thanks to egg donation. I told them I didn’t know how to let go of the dream of having my own genetic child without trying with my eggs first–a feeling they respected and understood well. As one of them put it “My oh my, how flexible you become when backed into a corner” and that’s how I felt. Another said that using donor eggs means that she gets to be pregnant faster. All the women agreed that there was much relief in using the eggs of a younger, more fertile woman, because the risk of something going wrong was greatly diminished.

And then I read a fantastic blog post, Myths About Donated Embryos, which made me think about being the recipient of donor eggs completely differently: most importantly for me, I now make the distinction between a genetic mom and a biological mom. If I used donor eggs, I might not share genes with my children, but I would certainly be their bio mom–because my body would feed my baby’s, not just incubate it. (I encourage you to read the information in Myths About Donated Embryos, which is based on information from the Donor Handbook (PDF), to learn more about this important distinction.)

I spent the rest of the morning browsing profiles on a couple of agency websites. Sure, a couple of people got added to My Favourites, but I didn’t feel excited, much less ‘egg-sighted’.  As I read through profiles and added woman after poor woman to the mental reject pile, I began to figure out what was important to me: I want someone not just like me, but like the best of me and the better than me. Who, in an ideal world, would I choose to be the genetic mother of my child? I’ll break it down:

Height: Must be 5’8″ or taller. This, for some bizarre reason I can’t fully explain, is non-negotiable.
Looks: Looks that I am drawn to–whether bone structure, shape of face, fullness of lips — but someone who doesn’t have my small, deep set eyes that I so hate.
Race: Don’t care, but predominantly Caucasian–otherwise people will assume I’ve been having an affair!
Ethnicity: Don’t care. Some Hispanic or Middle Eastern is okay because both DH and I have at least one olive-skinned parent each.
Qualities: Creative, artistic, geeky, musical, preferably a combination of all four would be ideal.
Temperament: Someone who has put thought into her answers and isn’t dashing them off. Someone who explains what she struggles with but who is confident enough to be herself without trying to guess what the Intended Parents might choose–so many girls describe themselves as ambitious and hard-working. These are fine qualities, but to us this feels more appropriate for a résumé.
Intelligence: Not necessarily academic (because I most certainly am not), but I appreciate good spelling and punctuation.
Athletic: Someone who enjoys being active more than I do. (I wish I enjoyed exercising…)
Spirituality: Someone who is unsure of their faith but open to others’ beliefs.
Openness: Ideally we would like to meet her or speak on the phone. And we would prefer that she be open to meeting the child/ren one day because that is not a choice we wish to make for our child/ren.
Reason for Wanting to Be a Donor: Mainly altruistic, and preferably because she’s seen someone close to her battle infertility.
Fee: The minimum, $5,000, would be ideal… but we would pay more for a proven donor (someone who is a known quantity when it comes to IVF medication and ovarian response).
Location: Sigh, it would be great if we could find someone in SoCal because otherwise we have to pay for travel and accommodation for Egg Donor and a companion, plus a per diem, and other extra agency admin fees.

That’s quite the list, huh? Who am I kidding? I thought earlier, so despondent.

And then I saw a photo on a new database I registered with today. A beautiful girl wearing a serious expression. A similar shaped face, but hers is prettier. Same jaw, but pointier chin. Luscious lips, large green eyes, dirty blonde hair. She reminded me of both my brother and my sister. I clicked on her link:

Height: 5’10”.
Looks: Could be my fucking niece! We even have a similar figure, but she has bigger boobs!
Race: Caucasian.
Ethnicity: German and Welsh — like me! (I am mainly English and Irish, and she also has Scottish blood.)
Qualities: Likes travel, astronomy, drawing, painting, plays the piano, comes from a musical family, likes trance music. Seriously, she could be my doppelganger.
Temperament: Comes across as stable, thoughtful, and someone who enjoys life and lives in the moment.
Intelligence: Academic–high SAT scores. Well-written answers.
Athletic: She loves riding, swimming in the ocean, jogging, and yoga.
Spirituality: No religion listed, but seems spiritual / at one with nature.
Openness: Unknown. Database doesn’t provide this info.
Reason for Wanting to Be a Donor: Has two close friends who suffer from infertility and she sees what the go through. Plans to use the money to help pay for college.
Fee: $5,000.
Location: San Diego.

Other bonuses: she is willing to donate to same sex couples (she isn’t a hater!), has a Rhesus negative blood group like me, has good CD3 bloodwork and high antral follicle count (which predicts how she will respond to IVF meds), no genetic disorders or major health problems in her family, exercises regularly, and is a newly registered donor.

I know she’s the one the same way I knew I’d found my wedding dress: the thought of not having her makes me antsy.

Where do we go from here? I still don’t know — but I am feeling very hopeful and a little optimistic.