egg babies

I've attempted to write this blog no less than four times. And each time, it's just not quite right. So I throw it away and begin again. But I've felt an incredible pull to put these words, or a variation of them, out into the universe for the last several weeks. For what purpose I have no idea, but I trust my gut enough to believe that the universe is talking to me and I should listen. So we'll see if this one makes the cut.

Several years ago I made the decision to become an egg donor. It wasn't a decision I made lightly, but it was a relatively easy decision to make. And before you ask, it really had nothing to do with money. Yes I was compensated. But it was totally not worth it. The process you put your body through is simultaneously painful and fascinating. And a bit terrifying. Twice daily injections of obscene amounts of hormones, daily blood work, and nearly daily ultrasounds so you can peer into your body that's now an over-sized petri dish so you can see the wonder of science push your body to its limit. No exercise, no heavy lifting {the guys I bartended with at the time did so much of my work ~ thanks guys!}, no sex for fear that you're going to fertilize all of the tiny eggs growing in your body at once and, well ... that just wouldn't be pretty. And then finally the day comes when you get to go in for a "simple procedure" in which they put you under, puncture dozens of tiny holes in your body to retrieve said growing eggs, and send you home with an order to rest and to take nothing stronger than Tylenol {which we all know doesn't do shit for pain}.

So then why endure the pain? Well ... it seems that the people in my life who wanted to be parents more than anyone else, were the ones who couldn't. THEY were the ones who really, really should though. I also remember my own mom's struggle with infertility when I was a little girl. Her greatest desire had always been to be a wife and a mother, yet she had multiple miscarriages that caused her to be broken and consumed with pain. There is amazing pain in the desire to have something like this that you cannot have. Then as an adult, I have watched in my own brokenness as family and friends have endured this same pain. It's really terrible. And ... apparently I have good eggs ~ who knew?! I figured since I wasn't using them, someone else might as well.

I have never had a desire to have children of my own. Now before you tell me that I'll change my mind when I'm older or I just haven't met the right guy or I really don't know what I'm talking about, let me assure you ... I'm older than you think I am. And it has nothing to do with a man, or being at a particular stage in my life ... or my own hatred of children. I think children are amazing, fascinating, wonderful humans. I just didn't get the mommy gene. And that doesn't make me weird or horrible {trust me, there are plenty of things that fulfill both of those criteria}. It just means I'm self-actualized enough to know what I want.

I went through the process twice. And it recently occurred to me that these tiny humans with whom I took a very, very short journey and who have my DNA, would be five this year. And I'm not sure why, but it's made me think of them a lot. And of their parents who I will never know, but I do know wanted them so very much that they solicited eggs from a complete stranger to help make that dream come true. It's something that I was a part of for a very brief moment in time. And my way of giving something very small {literally microscopic} back to the universe.