And One Day, This Did Make Sense
"Let me preface this article by saying that I am the owner/director of a successful surrogate and egg donor agency in Texas. I am not, however, writing this article from a professional stand point, but rather from someone who has been there, done that.I have been reading the online article by Lynn, "Some Day This Will All Make Perfect Sense." As I read it, memories flood my consciousness and pain fills my heart. Not just for Lynn, but for all of you out there who are where we (my husband and I) once were. I hope this article will help to give you strength during your own confused time.
I have been trying to decide where to begin my article. They say that the beginning is usually the best place. When Greg and I met, I had already been told that I could not have any more children. At the time I was told it did not seem to matter. I had a beautiful daughter, a daughter that I nearly died giving birth to. I was thankful to be alive and to have her. Then I met Greg. Greg, the man I was always meant to be with, the man I loved, I adored (I knew this after one date), MR. RIGHT, the man who had no children, who wanted children, with whom I wanted children. This was the beginning of our ride on the infertility roller coaster.
We started with my OB/GYN who had originally told me that I would not be able to have any more children. He explained that medical technology in the field of infertility had come a long way since he had originally told me that. There was new hope for people like me. After all, he explained I had been pregnant before, I was still ovulating, and after a serious of puncture wounds in the arm, it appeared that my hormones were doing quite well. My problem? I had hemorrhaged badly after the birth of my first daughter. I lost too much blood which resulted in collapsed veins, emergency surgery, and a scarred uterus that could provide no place for a healthy, bouncing embryo to attach and grow and thrive to a healthy bouncing baby. Yes, there was hope, but not with this doctor. We would have to see someone with a title of Reproductive Endocrinologist. Now what the heck was that?
We soon learned the answer to that question along with many other questions. What is a hysterosalpingogram, and could you say that again, please (oh, HSG is much simpler). What, a laporoscopy, a hysteroscopy? What are these? What do you mean I have severe endometriosis? I have had a child. Oh, you can have a child with endometriosis?
After five long years of surgeries, inseminations, fertility pills, fertility drugs, shots, sticks, bruised arms, and bruised bottoms, we still had no baby. Our entire marriage had been spent with our now best friend or worst enemy, infertility. Failed attempt after failed attempt resulted in unresolved grief that layered itself across every aspect of our lives. Statistics became bloodlines to our hearts and souls. If you do this or that it may increase your chance of success. I read a report that too much coffee may hurt your chance of success, and too much stress lowers the odds (now I always thought that was a funny one given the stress this was causing). More than 50% of couples experiencing infertility end in divorce. NO! NO! NO! I won't let it happen, we won't let it happen. Our marriage grew stronger.
Infertility controlled us in every way. Vacations were planned around treatment and optimum time for success. Did you know that August is suppose to be the best month for getting pregnant (another, probably unfounded statistical report I read)? How can we buy a new car, we don't know what size? Yes, we do have to move, but do we need a house that has a perfect location for a nursery or not?
I realized that my daughter was beginning to suffer the disappointments as much as we were. We decided to stop telling her that we were trying. We isolated ourselves from friends and even family. We just could not take the questions, and most of all, the unsolicited advice (if one more person had told me to relax, I think I would have screamed --- wait a minute, I think I did).
Finally we were faced with the choice of giving up or moving on to an in vitro attempt. The doctor we were working with did not feel as though we had a great chance, but he understood that we had to try. "Lets transfer back to you one time," was his advice, "if it doesn't work, you might think about transferring any frozen embryos you have to a surrogate." A surrogate? Well, the subject had come up once or twice, but was usually dismissed with "lets try one more time."
So, we decided to attempt in vitro. During this time, I had decided to enroll in school. "I want to be a counselor," I announced, and that takes a graduate degree. I shared my dream with the nurse coordinator. I told her that I wanted to work with couples experiencing infertility. Her reaction was so positive. "You would be so great, I believe you have an advantage having experienced it." "Plus," she added in a somewhat softer voice, "you're a woman."
Our in vitro went textbook perfect. They retrieved ten beautiful, healthy, wonderful eggs. Finally, I did something right! Nine eggs fertilized all excellent quality. They transferred four to my uterus and froze the other five. This was going to work! Everything was perfect, good eggs, good cycle, how could it not work? Oh yea, well there was that issue of the scarred uterus. But hey, I had two surgeries to clean that up. O.k., so the doctor had said that there was a 30% chance, at best (I heard 30% chance, I did not her 70% non-chance). We had the transfer. Ten days, we had to wait ten, excruciatingly long days. Then the day arrived. I had the blood test early that morning. Late that afternoon, Greg called for the results. When the phone rang and I heard his voice on the other end, I knew the answer. No, no! It just couldn't be. I just knew that I would be pregnant. But the answer was no.
I sat on the sofa for three days. I am not sure that I moved, ate, thought, or anything. I just sat. What next? What do we do with those frozen embryos?
Finally I told Greg that there was a special baby for us. We had suffered these disappointments and failures because the special baby for us was not ready yet. Maybe it was true, or maybe I was desperate to make sense of all the disappointment. I just know that I truly believed it.
After many late night discussions, we both agreed. We should give our embryos their best chance to survive. We began calling agencies that provided surrogate arrangement services. I found a book by Lori B. Andrews titled Between Strangers. I was so moved by some parts of that book, I said to Greg, "this is what I want to do." He replied that he knew that, and that was why we were looking at agencies. "No," I explained. "This is what I want to do professionally." "We have the skills, you are the legal, I am the emotional." I reminded him how he always told me that I had a remarkable instinct for people, which was one of the reasons I had wanted to be a counselor.
So, the research began. Greg found every piece of written material he could find on the legal aspects. I found all the books and articles I could find on the emotional aspects. Night after night we poured over books. We decided that we would be our own test case. So, we began to look for a surrogate.
We interviewed woman after woman. I was looking for that "special something." Something more there than just "I need money." I thought I had found it, but she didn't work out. More interviews, more frustrations, and then I met this wonderful lady who was a surrogate at the time. She was so sweet, warm, and personable, and seemed so genuine. She seemed worth waiting for. And, so we did. She had the baby for the other couple. Everything went great. She needed six months recovery. While waiting for her to be ready, we started to get calls from other couples. I had been active in Resolve and some members knew we were doing this ourselves and planned to start an agency soon. Resolve started referring couples to us. Two couples were ready. So, we decided to help them.
Both couples were pregnant before us. I was very happy for them. But, I knew I could not do this for anyone else again until we were successful ourselves. The wonderful lady, who we had waited on for so long, was now having trouble with her cycles. We would have to find another surrogate. While interviewing potential surrogates for other couples, I met someone that I thought would be perfect for us.
She was perfect for us and approximately eleven months later we were bringing home a beautiful, and very bouncy I might add, baby girl. All the way home from the hospital Greg just kept saying to her, "I can't believe you are really here."
A few days ago I drove my four-year-old daughter to the doors of a great big, very intimidating building. At least when you are four, it is intimidating. Or when you are mom and you know what this building symbolizes it is intimidating, actually, downright frightening. We walked up the stairs kind of slowly, hand in hand. It was the day we had anticipated, been waiting for, been excited about, been dreading. It was the first day of pre K. I knelt down at the door and told her to give mommy a big hug and kiss. As she did so, she whispered in my ear, "I don't want to stay here."
"You will be fine," I assured her. How could I tell her that inside I was screaming, "I don't want you to stay here either." After waiting for you for six long years, I don't want you growing up so fast." Yes, it was just pre K, and she had been to pre school programs before. But this one was different. Pre K is an official grade. Her school goes from Pre K through the twelfth grade. This was different because this was the beginning of those 14 years marked off one by one until she would be walking out the door to another great big intimidating building. I know how quickly those years will pass. They will pass much faster than the six it took us to get her.
I drove to the office with tears in my eyes, reliving the memories of how she came to be, the heartaches, the long wait, the anticipation, and finally the joy of her coming home. When I arrived to the office I had a message from a client. I could tell from her voice that it was good news. I opened a card. It was from a donor telling me what a big heart I have and how special I am. "I am not special," I thought, "they, the donors and the surrogates, are special." I wondered if they really know or understand the joy they bring to others with their wonderful, unselfish gift of love.
Later that afternoon I waited outside the doors of the classroom. When she came out, she jumped in my arms all prepared with a big hug. "It was a great day!" she exclaimed. I thought over the entire morning's events as well as the past ten years.
I looked into her big, blue eyes and thought to myself how much I loved her. And then I remembered Lynn's article and I thought "this is someday, and this does make perfect sense."
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