Madame Ovary
I’m not very religious, you folks probably know that. But I do enjoy doing nice things for people. I don’t think I’ve written about the biggest humanitarian thing I’ve ever done: I donated my eggs. This was many years back – way before there were blogs. Otherwise I’d written about it sooner. I think it was 1997, maybe 98. But here’s the story.
I was working for my favorite women’s organization at the time, so I was feeling empowered. One of my friends, a nurse there, asked if I wanted to go out to a lesbian club with her one weekend. What the hell? Yes, I’m straight - just not narrow. I’ve always had gay friends. So we went out to the club on a Saturday nite. I didn’t get hit on once, much to my dismay. Is it that obvious that I’m not gay?
Continuing on…there was a big bulletin board at the front door, and we stopped to look at the different ads and fliers on our way out. One of them caught my attention. It said: “Lesbian couple seeking kind, generous woman to donate eggs. You will be compensated for your time.”
Hmm. I thought, hey, I’m kind. I’m generous. I’m certainly a woman. So I wrote down the number. When I got to work on Monday, I called, mostly out of curiosity. It was a fertility clinic in the medical center area of Houston. I told them that I’d seen a flier, and that I was interested in getting more information. They promptly made an appointment for me to come in and be interviewed.
When I met with the doctors, they were truly awesome women. They liked me right away. We talked candidly about pretty much everything, and they were thrilled that I was willing to donate eggs to a gay/lesbian couple. Of course, there were lots of other people for them to interview, and ultimately the couple would get to pick who they wanted as their donor. My next steps involved LOTS of paperwork, tons actually, and an essay, written to the potential child who could be born from this donation. Apparently I have a way with words, because they called me just a week later and said I’d been chosen as a donor. It was the essay, I know it was. J
The next two months were crazy. I would not meet the couple receiving the eggs, everything would be kept anonymous. I was sent to a psychiatrist for a series of tests, to make sure that I was mentally fit to be an egg donor. The lady was very sweet, and although I did fine on the tests, she said there was an indication that I took them in a defensive manner. Defensive? Me? Nah. I just thought some of the questions were funny. Such as, “Do you ever feel the need to steal other people’s shoes?” You can’t tell me that’s not funny. Don’t even get me started on the fecal matter questions. Eww.
Once they found out I wasn’t crazy, I came to the clinic weekly, for ultrasounds, blood work and lots of medications. They had to pump up my egg supply so that there would be plenty to harvest. Cool, I sound like a crop. After a few weeks of this, they sent me home with meds that I had to inject myself with daily, morning and night. One in the stomach, one in the leg. I’ve never been a fan of needles. It’s amazing what you’ll do for a good cause. The people at work started calling me “Madame Ovary” and threw me an ‘egg shower’. I loved those people. The best co-workers I ever had are in Houston.
Finally, the big day. Everything was ready. I arrived at the clinic early. The removal procedure would only take about an hour, and I was to be heavily sedated. Yay! When I got there, the doctors presented me with a package from the receiving couple. There was a card, a 2-page handwritten note, and a charm bracelet from James Avery. It was so sweet, I cried. I was overwhelmed with the thought of helping someone in such a huge way. I also received a nice check, but I didn’t even care about the money. That’s not what it was about.
The procedure went well – 19 eggs removed, and an even dozen of them successfully fertilized later. So they had 12 attempts to get pregnant. I’ve since passed the bracelet on to my younger daughter. I never heard how it turned out, never knew if they got pregnant or if I I did in fact help them or not. I like to think that I did. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a little person running around in Houston who looks a lot like me.
So, who’s hungry? I've got plenty of eggs!
Eww. So gross. I know. Peace out.
I was working for my favorite women’s organization at the time, so I was feeling empowered. One of my friends, a nurse there, asked if I wanted to go out to a lesbian club with her one weekend. What the hell? Yes, I’m straight - just not narrow. I’ve always had gay friends. So we went out to the club on a Saturday nite. I didn’t get hit on once, much to my dismay. Is it that obvious that I’m not gay?
Continuing on…there was a big bulletin board at the front door, and we stopped to look at the different ads and fliers on our way out. One of them caught my attention. It said: “Lesbian couple seeking kind, generous woman to donate eggs. You will be compensated for your time.”
Hmm. I thought, hey, I’m kind. I’m generous. I’m certainly a woman. So I wrote down the number. When I got to work on Monday, I called, mostly out of curiosity. It was a fertility clinic in the medical center area of Houston. I told them that I’d seen a flier, and that I was interested in getting more information. They promptly made an appointment for me to come in and be interviewed.
When I met with the doctors, they were truly awesome women. They liked me right away. We talked candidly about pretty much everything, and they were thrilled that I was willing to donate eggs to a gay/lesbian couple. Of course, there were lots of other people for them to interview, and ultimately the couple would get to pick who they wanted as their donor. My next steps involved LOTS of paperwork, tons actually, and an essay, written to the potential child who could be born from this donation. Apparently I have a way with words, because they called me just a week later and said I’d been chosen as a donor. It was the essay, I know it was. J
The next two months were crazy. I would not meet the couple receiving the eggs, everything would be kept anonymous. I was sent to a psychiatrist for a series of tests, to make sure that I was mentally fit to be an egg donor. The lady was very sweet, and although I did fine on the tests, she said there was an indication that I took them in a defensive manner. Defensive? Me? Nah. I just thought some of the questions were funny. Such as, “Do you ever feel the need to steal other people’s shoes?” You can’t tell me that’s not funny. Don’t even get me started on the fecal matter questions. Eww.
Once they found out I wasn’t crazy, I came to the clinic weekly, for ultrasounds, blood work and lots of medications. They had to pump up my egg supply so that there would be plenty to harvest. Cool, I sound like a crop. After a few weeks of this, they sent me home with meds that I had to inject myself with daily, morning and night. One in the stomach, one in the leg. I’ve never been a fan of needles. It’s amazing what you’ll do for a good cause. The people at work started calling me “Madame Ovary” and threw me an ‘egg shower’. I loved those people. The best co-workers I ever had are in Houston.
Finally, the big day. Everything was ready. I arrived at the clinic early. The removal procedure would only take about an hour, and I was to be heavily sedated. Yay! When I got there, the doctors presented me with a package from the receiving couple. There was a card, a 2-page handwritten note, and a charm bracelet from James Avery. It was so sweet, I cried. I was overwhelmed with the thought of helping someone in such a huge way. I also received a nice check, but I didn’t even care about the money. That’s not what it was about.
The procedure went well – 19 eggs removed, and an even dozen of them successfully fertilized later. So they had 12 attempts to get pregnant. I’ve since passed the bracelet on to my younger daughter. I never heard how it turned out, never knew if they got pregnant or if I I did in fact help them or not. I like to think that I did. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a little person running around in Houston who looks a lot like me.
So, who’s hungry? I've got plenty of eggs!
Eww. So gross. I know. Peace out.
posted by Jenn at
2:11 PM
13 Comments:
Stealing someone's shoes, I like Andrea's tennis shoes so much that she had to go out and buy another pair. That's really a cool story Jenn.
Thanks. It was a really cool feeling. Well, except for the painful and nauseating part, which I didn't mention. :)
DAMMIT! I was looking for those!
Damn good thing to do.
I have donated a few pints of juice over the years - Spreads the genes with none of the sweating or relationship hassle. And niftly avoids the 18 years of whining & financial outlay that breeding at home causes. Of course, its easier for blokes.
Fortunately, they didn't ask me about shoe stealing, so I didn't have to lie.
I always thought about doing that, but I heard there were heavy complications with it, and that it could start early menopause. If that isn't true, I'd like to donate. I've always wanted to. Not for the good cause thing, but because of the money. I'm not a goody goody like YOU.
Hehehe. :)
I didn't mention the aftermath. For about a month, my body thought it was pregnant and responded in kind - morning sickness, fatigue, etc. And my ovaries were freaking huge. But it passed without incident. I haven't experienced any complications thus far. Early menopause though is still to be seen. With how I've been feeling lately, hmm, I wonder.
I almost did the same thing, but I didn't feel right passing along my Dad's heart condition.
Though it would be funny to make snide remarks about "probably having a couple of kids out there" like some dickwad guy.
Yeah, that was the other perk to it. Braggin' rights. :)
Watch it Jenn, donating eggs is only funny til they sue you for child support.....
Then it'll be just HILARIOUS!
--Travis--
We all learned the real meaning of "Harvest Time".
LAL! You're still reading! Good to see you. How are things in H-town?
We have "group reads" in my office during lunch (I'm now in the Resource room next to Library). I sit at my desk and read aloud your blog to old friends and new staff. It's a kick!
TP has a new book out, with great pics of Dana.
xxxooo
That is so freaking cool! Tell everyone hello for me.
I need to get that book! Hoping to see him tour again soon, it's been a while.
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