T-minus 19 days until I look and feel like this:
Sweet Jesus. I'm already excited. I love my eggos.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
You've Got Mail
Walgreens Specialty Pharmacy Services gave me a friendly call today to confirm my shipment of hormones.
T-minus 19 days until I look and feel like this:
T-minus 19 days until I look and feel like this:
Sunday, December 26, 2010
The Process [finally] Begins
So I've left the eggo blog alone for a while because...well...frankly, nothing interesting or eventful has happened with the eggos. The eggos are just waiting to be someone else's bad ass baby.
Only today is Christmas day. I get to stop my birth control and restart it on January 2nd so that I'm all synced up with the recipient mommy. THE MAGIC BEGINS.
Important things to remember:
Starting today: No sex.
Starting January 2nd: No booze.
(At this point, you should realize that all the fun in my life has been forcibly removed. I plan on subsidizing it with copious amounts of chocolate and romantic comedies.)
Starting mid-January: I will be full of hormones that will make me emotionally unstable. Save yourself: if you see me calling just don't pick up. But if you do, please tell me that I am 1. Pretty. 2. Smart 3. Funny.
Starting February 3rd: I fly across the country (with Dad, he's my caretaker during this event so he can go golfing with my Uncle while I'm going to and from the clinic) and then have the retrieval.
On February 9th, I fly back home and begin the process of going back to normal.
Piece of cake....right? I could use a piece of cake right now.
Only today is Christmas day. I get to stop my birth control and restart it on January 2nd so that I'm all synced up with the recipient mommy. THE MAGIC BEGINS.
Important things to remember:
Starting today: No sex.
Starting January 2nd: No booze.
(At this point, you should realize that all the fun in my life has been forcibly removed. I plan on subsidizing it with copious amounts of chocolate and romantic comedies.)
Starting mid-January: I will be full of hormones that will make me emotionally unstable. Save yourself: if you see me calling just don't pick up. But if you do, please tell me that I am 1. Pretty. 2. Smart 3. Funny.
Starting February 3rd: I fly across the country (with Dad, he's my caretaker during this event so he can go golfing with my Uncle while I'm going to and from the clinic) and then have the retrieval.
On February 9th, I fly back home and begin the process of going back to normal.
Piece of cake....right? I could use a piece of cake right now.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thanksgiving
Hopefully by this time next year, the eggos will be a bambino and will make two very dedicated parents quite happy.
And the bambino will probably develop his or her obsession with potatoes at this time. Gobble, gobble.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Cuterous!
The clinic was in a building that was a church in a past life. "God. Are you for serious? Jesus Christ. Literally. Halle-frickin-lujah." I said this out loud while sitting in my car like a crazy person.
Then I walked into the Holy Church of Familial Bliss (aka the waiting room) with all the preggos and their hubbies. I was very surreal, like a Dali painting. I'm probably the last person who should have been in their secret club. A voice out of no where called my name. All the preggos had vacated the lobby at this point and I was looking around for the source. There was no one. This place was empty. I began to think I was having a religious experience when around a corner a nurse appeared. Apparently, God was getting back at me for taking his son's name in vain in the parking lot.
When I was in my little exam room waiting for the ultrasound, I began to have five second panic attack.
Holy crap. This is real. Is this what they do when they want to confirm you're pregnant, too? What if they take the ultrasound AND I AM PREGNANT??? Can that happen?? What if I don't have ovaries??? Is that even possible?? What if one is missing or something??? Would someone have noticed that by now...a missing ovary??? This is what I get for having no medical insurance and relying on Planned Parenthood for all my reproductive needs.
The nurse came back in, started up the ultrasound machine and BOOM. I had a uterus and ovaries. I'd like to point out that I don't really consciously think of my uterus or my ovaries as being a part of me. I know they are there, I just am not conscience they exists. Like an ex-boyfriend or something. Every month I defeat them and venture on without an unplanned pregnancy. But seeing them on the little screen, I became attached. Really attached. I'm in love with them. I'm going to give out some quality eggos.
And that's when she said it, "You have beautiful ovaries. Normally when women come here, it is because they have reproductive issues. It's good to see ones that are working."
Hallelujah.
Then I walked into the Holy Church of Familial Bliss (aka the waiting room) with all the preggos and their hubbies. I was very surreal, like a Dali painting. I'm probably the last person who should have been in their secret club. A voice out of no where called my name. All the preggos had vacated the lobby at this point and I was looking around for the source. There was no one. This place was empty. I began to think I was having a religious experience when around a corner a nurse appeared. Apparently, God was getting back at me for taking his son's name in vain in the parking lot.
When I was in my little exam room waiting for the ultrasound, I began to have five second panic attack.
Holy crap. This is real. Is this what they do when they want to confirm you're pregnant, too? What if they take the ultrasound AND I AM PREGNANT??? Can that happen?? What if I don't have ovaries??? Is that even possible?? What if one is missing or something??? Would someone have noticed that by now...a missing ovary??? This is what I get for having no medical insurance and relying on Planned Parenthood for all my reproductive needs.
The nurse came back in, started up the ultrasound machine and BOOM. I had a uterus and ovaries. I'd like to point out that I don't really consciously think of my uterus or my ovaries as being a part of me. I know they are there, I just am not conscience they exists. Like an ex-boyfriend or something. Every month I defeat them and venture on without an unplanned pregnancy. But seeing them on the little screen, I became attached. Really attached. I'm in love with them. I'm going to give out some quality eggos.
And that's when she said it, "You have beautiful ovaries. Normally when women come here, it is because they have reproductive issues. It's good to see ones that are working."
Hallelujah.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Waiting Room Chatter
i am the only woman in this waiting room who is not pregnant and who doesnt have a man with her.
awkward.
my eggos have more potential than all their almost born babies. plus my eggos will live in florida, not tacoma.
i win.
awkward.
my eggos have more potential than all their almost born babies. plus my eggos will live in florida, not tacoma.
i win.
Process. Process. Process.
I start off my twenty-four our trip to Florida by closing my eyes, gripping the arm rests in my seat, breathing slowly and praying to God not to let the plane go down.The woman next to me tapped my shoulder and said, "It's okay sugar, we're just about to land." Thanks lady, I'm aware the plane is hurdling toward the earth. I'm trying to channel my Lord and Savior to save us all from a fiery and untimely death.
I got to the hotel, went up to my room and started jumping up and down on the king size bed. I felt like a baller. Then I took a bubble bath in my huge tub and got ready to meet my uncle for dinner. He and I had a lovely time. I told him about my life, my work, my friends, my relationships and, of course, about the eggos. My uncle is pretty much one of the coolest people I know. He and his wife never had kids. Save for my dad, I would have been happy to be his kid. And if letting the eggs go would give a man like my uncle a child, I'm so down. At dinner, I turned into a sleep deprived zombie girl. One beer and a meal later I was practically drooling on myself so back to the hotel I went. I proceeded to pass out like a giant baby in my giant king size bed.
The next morning I made my way over to the clinic. The receptionist saw me and complimented me on my new glasses. "Ummmm, thanks? I'm here for my 12:30 appointment?" They took me back into a room where they went over all of the legal information. I was told how the entire process will work from start to finish. I was told of the risks associated with the procedure. I was told of the side effects of all three hormones I was receiving. I was told both my ovaries will go from the size of a grape to the size of a fist. I was shown the needs and how I will inject myself. I was told what clinic to get in touch with who will monitor me near my home during the process. And I was told my sig o will have to get a blood test to test for HIV and Hepatitis (and he acted like a baby about it).
HOW COMPLETELY OVERWHELMING IS ALL OF THAT? And they only take FOUR eggos. My eggs will be this cool and this Jewish:
Mazel Tov. They'll rock and roll all night, and party everyday.
I managed to get up the cajones to ask the woman at the clinic the question I've really wanted to ask: "Out of all the people in the world, why did they pick me?" She smiled and said, "You look exactly like her, almost like a twin. The receptionist thought you were the recipient when you walked in. You're educated. Your profile was interesting. You were the closet to embodying her."
Yahtzee! And for the rest of their lives, they'll be thanking me. I like that karma.
I left the clinic with instructions to get an ultrasound at the clinic near my home on day 3 of my period. I hoped in a cab, headed my way to the airport and went right to the bar where I talked sports with the other patrons. And a very nice gentleman from New York was kind enough to pick up my tab. I promised him I would tell you all that. I caught the giant flying tube of death and rode with arm-rest-gripping anxiety all the way home.
In the morning (Yes, on a Sunday) I'm going to the clinic for my ultrasound. I expect them to find my ovaries in tip top shape and see my little eggos dancing around like superstars they are destined to be. Expect greatness to follow.
I got to the hotel, went up to my room and started jumping up and down on the king size bed. I felt like a baller. Then I took a bubble bath in my huge tub and got ready to meet my uncle for dinner. He and I had a lovely time. I told him about my life, my work, my friends, my relationships and, of course, about the eggos. My uncle is pretty much one of the coolest people I know. He and his wife never had kids. Save for my dad, I would have been happy to be his kid. And if letting the eggs go would give a man like my uncle a child, I'm so down. At dinner, I turned into a sleep deprived zombie girl. One beer and a meal later I was practically drooling on myself so back to the hotel I went. I proceeded to pass out like a giant baby in my giant king size bed.
The next morning I made my way over to the clinic. The receptionist saw me and complimented me on my new glasses. "Ummmm, thanks? I'm here for my 12:30 appointment?" They took me back into a room where they went over all of the legal information. I was told how the entire process will work from start to finish. I was told of the risks associated with the procedure. I was told of the side effects of all three hormones I was receiving. I was told both my ovaries will go from the size of a grape to the size of a fist. I was shown the needs and how I will inject myself. I was told what clinic to get in touch with who will monitor me near my home during the process. And I was told my sig o will have to get a blood test to test for HIV and Hepatitis (and he acted like a baby about it).
HOW COMPLETELY OVERWHELMING IS ALL OF THAT? And they only take FOUR eggos. My eggs will be this cool and this Jewish:
Mazel Tov. They'll rock and roll all night, and party everyday.
I managed to get up the cajones to ask the woman at the clinic the question I've really wanted to ask: "Out of all the people in the world, why did they pick me?" She smiled and said, "You look exactly like her, almost like a twin. The receptionist thought you were the recipient when you walked in. You're educated. Your profile was interesting. You were the closet to embodying her."
Yahtzee! And for the rest of their lives, they'll be thanking me. I like that karma.
I left the clinic with instructions to get an ultrasound at the clinic near my home on day 3 of my period. I hoped in a cab, headed my way to the airport and went right to the bar where I talked sports with the other patrons. And a very nice gentleman from New York was kind enough to pick up my tab. I promised him I would tell you all that. I caught the giant flying tube of death and rode with arm-rest-gripping anxiety all the way home.
In the morning (Yes, on a Sunday) I'm going to the clinic for my ultrasound. I expect them to find my ovaries in tip top shape and see my little eggos dancing around like superstars they are destined to be. Expect greatness to follow.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Packing packing packing
I'm getting all my things together for my trip tomorrow. Got my iPod, got my hair straightener, got my flip flops, got my Dramamine.
T-minus nine hours til the eggos and I head eastward for our check up.
I do have something I'd like to ask the egg donation facilitators. I'd like to know what the couple looks like. They got to see a profile of me and my interests and my genetic history; all I want is a picture so I have some idea of what these people look like and how I am connected to them.
I do hope they love the eggos with all their hearts. I mean, I'd hate to go through this effort for them not to have a good life in a good home with a good family. Cross your fingers. The journey begins.
T-minus nine hours til the eggos and I head eastward for our check up.
I do have something I'd like to ask the egg donation facilitators. I'd like to know what the couple looks like. They got to see a profile of me and my interests and my genetic history; all I want is a picture so I have some idea of what these people look like and how I am connected to them.
I do hope they love the eggos with all their hearts. I mean, I'd hate to go through this effort for them not to have a good life in a good home with a good family. Cross your fingers. The journey begins.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Jet Plane
Next week the eggos and I are flying across the country for my medical eval. It will be sunny and eighty degrees. I'm excited.
Flying worries me the most. I understand how the plane gets it the air and how it lands but the five year-old kid inside of me is like, "HOW THE HELL ARE WE STAYING IN THE AIR? WHAT WAS THAT? TURBULENCE!? BULL SHIT. WE ARE GOING TO DIE IN THIS GIANT TUBE OF DEATH."
Yeah, giant tube of death? Thanks conscious. It isn't like I'm just afraid of flying, I'm also afraid of the unknown. Like what will happen during this interview? What is the actual medical evalution? Do I have to get any shots? What if my connection is late? Will my feet have to be in stirrups? Will I be able to find my way to the hotel from the airport? What should I wear? What if I'm not pretty enough (yeah, that's the inner seventh grader coming out)? What if I get lost? What if there is a volcano that erupts and causes all flights be be delayed like it did in Europe with the volcano in Iceland errupted?
This could also be me deflecting my fear of this whole process into flying. In the meantime, I'm trying to stay positive and stock up on Dramamine...and vodka.
Flying worries me the most. I understand how the plane gets it the air and how it lands but the five year-old kid inside of me is like, "HOW THE HELL ARE WE STAYING IN THE AIR? WHAT WAS THAT? TURBULENCE!? BULL SHIT. WE ARE GOING TO DIE IN THIS GIANT TUBE OF DEATH."
Yeah, giant tube of death? Thanks conscious. It isn't like I'm just afraid of flying, I'm also afraid of the unknown. Like what will happen during this interview? What is the actual medical evalution? Do I have to get any shots? What if my connection is late? Will my feet have to be in stirrups? Will I be able to find my way to the hotel from the airport? What should I wear? What if I'm not pretty enough (yeah, that's the inner seventh grader coming out)? What if I get lost? What if there is a volcano that erupts and causes all flights be be delayed like it did in Europe with the volcano in Iceland errupted?
This could also be me deflecting my fear of this whole process into flying. In the meantime, I'm trying to stay positive and stock up on Dramamine...and vodka.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Money talks
There is a generous compensation for this process.
Basically a third of the compensation I'm receiving will go to a vacation, a third will go to bills and the last third will go to my savings account.
The biggest rule I have is that I am not allowed to spend any of this money on anyone but myself. I'm the one giving up the eggos, injecting myself everyday with needles, turning into a giant PMS monster; this process is all about me.
Or I could just go to Vegas and burn it all on gambling, hookers and blow like I'm a mother fucking rock star.
Basically a third of the compensation I'm receiving will go to a vacation, a third will go to bills and the last third will go to my savings account.
The biggest rule I have is that I am not allowed to spend any of this money on anyone but myself. I'm the one giving up the eggos, injecting myself everyday with needles, turning into a giant PMS monster; this process is all about me.
Or I could just go to Vegas and burn it all on gambling, hookers and blow like I'm a mother fucking rock star.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Booked
In early November I shall start all the medical steps necessary to donate.
I'll fly across the country for my initial medical evaluation then being a schedule of 3 types hormone injections that I will have to administer to myself.
Some fun side effects will include:
-*Moodiness* (it's the first side effect of each hormone)
-Hot Flashes
-Headache
-Fatigue
-Bloating
So I'll be a giant ball of PMS for about 24 days. Get excited!!!
I'll fly across the country for my initial medical evaluation then being a schedule of 3 types hormone injections that I will have to administer to myself.
Some fun side effects will include:
-*Moodiness* (it's the first side effect of each hormone)
-Hot Flashes
-Headache
-Fatigue
-Bloating
So I'll be a giant ball of PMS for about 24 days. Get excited!!!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Legal
I had to sign two contracts; one between myself and the company that facilitates egg donation and another contact between myself and the intended parents.
Basically, once I signed the dotted line and began my treatment I'd have to follow through with it. No backing out or I could be sued for breach of contract and for emotional distress. I don't like the idea of being sued, frankly, neither do the eggos. It's on like Donkey Kong.
I had some options. I chose to be notified if the intended parents get pregnant (MAZEL TOV!) and I chose to be contacted by the eggos when they grown up if they'd like to know about me. And I feel like that is a big if. The eggos clearly have parents that will go to the ends of the earth for them and have a great financial situation. Apparently, money can buy you love, a baby AND a fatty pimped out BMW on your sixteenth birthday.
Those lucky little bastards.
Basically, once I signed the dotted line and began my treatment I'd have to follow through with it. No backing out or I could be sued for breach of contract and for emotional distress. I don't like the idea of being sued, frankly, neither do the eggos. It's on like Donkey Kong.
I had some options. I chose to be notified if the intended parents get pregnant (MAZEL TOV!) and I chose to be contacted by the eggos when they grown up if they'd like to know about me. And I feel like that is a big if. The eggos clearly have parents that will go to the ends of the earth for them and have a great financial situation. Apparently, money can buy you love, a baby AND a fatty pimped out BMW on your sixteenth birthday.
Those lucky little bastards.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
PSYCH! [exam]
The first step of the process is a psychological exam. There is nothing more uncomfortable than having to sit in a room with someone you don't know and tell them every detail about yourself. The Shrink now knows things that even my best girl friend and best gay friend don't even know about me. Mazel tov.
I sat on the little couch with my little cup of water and began to be questioned.
Have you ever been molested? Have you ever been raped? Have you ever been pregnant or had an abortion? Have you ever been a victim of domestic violence? How many sexual partners have you had?
Clearly, she just dove right into the most uncomfortable questions ever.
No. No. No. No. Aaaaaand none of your business (I told her).
Every time after this lady asked me a question, I would second guess my own answers. She had on glasses and her eyebrows would arch with every response I gave. I had to double check myself. "No, I've never been arrested." And then she'd look at me over her glasses and my brain would go: REALLY?!?!?! ARE YOU SURE?!?! NOT ONCE?!?!? I went to church three nights a week in high school and studied for fun. Of course I've never been arrested.
Then she said, "I would like you to repeat these three words after me: rabbit, justice, blue."
Me: "Rabbit, justice, blue"
Shrink, "Remember those three words for later."
Balls. Of course you're going to play a memory game. I'm going to give you the most intimate details of my life and try to remember the most random set of words you just threw at me in the back of my mind.
Yes, I had a great childhood. RABBIT JUSTICE BLUE Yes, both my parents loved me. Yes, I was an excellent student. No, I don't hear voices. RABBIT JUSTICE BLUE. No, I don't have any special powers.Yes, I believe in God. I graduated from college. Yes, I understand the emotional impact of this procedure. RABBIT JUSTICE BLUE. No, I don't drink very often anymore. RABBIT JUSTICE....ERRR UMMMM.............BLUE!!!!!!! 26 + 17 = 43 (Yeah she threw in some 2nd grade math problems to fuck with me).Yes, there has been a death of someone close to me. No, I have never had a sexually transmitted disease. 32 - 9 = 23. Yes, I am okay with giving up my genetic material to someone else.
Shrink, "And what were those words I asked you to remember earlier?"
Me, "Rabbit. Justice. Blue."
VICTORY! :)
I sat on the little couch with my little cup of water and began to be questioned.
Have you ever been molested? Have you ever been raped? Have you ever been pregnant or had an abortion? Have you ever been a victim of domestic violence? How many sexual partners have you had?
Clearly, she just dove right into the most uncomfortable questions ever.
No. No. No. No. Aaaaaand none of your business (I told her).
Every time after this lady asked me a question, I would second guess my own answers. She had on glasses and her eyebrows would arch with every response I gave. I had to double check myself. "No, I've never been arrested." And then she'd look at me over her glasses and my brain would go: REALLY?!?!?! ARE YOU SURE?!?! NOT ONCE?!?!? I went to church three nights a week in high school and studied for fun. Of course I've never been arrested.
Then she said, "I would like you to repeat these three words after me: rabbit, justice, blue."
Me: "Rabbit, justice, blue"
Shrink, "Remember those three words for later."
Balls. Of course you're going to play a memory game. I'm going to give you the most intimate details of my life and try to remember the most random set of words you just threw at me in the back of my mind.
Yes, I had a great childhood. RABBIT JUSTICE BLUE Yes, both my parents loved me. Yes, I was an excellent student. No, I don't hear voices. RABBIT JUSTICE BLUE. No, I don't have any special powers.Yes, I believe in God. I graduated from college. Yes, I understand the emotional impact of this procedure. RABBIT JUSTICE BLUE. No, I don't drink very often anymore. RABBIT JUSTICE....ERRR UMMMM.............BLUE!!!!!!! 26 + 17 = 43 (Yeah she threw in some 2nd grade math problems to fuck with me).Yes, there has been a death of someone close to me. No, I have never had a sexually transmitted disease. 32 - 9 = 23. Yes, I am okay with giving up my genetic material to someone else.
Shrink, "And what were those words I asked you to remember earlier?"
Me, "Rabbit. Justice. Blue."
VICTORY! :)
The Beginning
Once upon a time there was a twenty-two year old college graduate who had no idea what to do with her life(well, she still doesn't know what to do with her life but that is besides the point). She graduated, had no job, had no serious romantic interests and had no desire to commit to anything in any way. However, broke and desperate for something to do on a Wednesday afternoon, she saw an advertisement for egg donation. After doing a little bit of research, she committed herself enough to make a profile and go to a meeting about it. Mostly the girl did it out of boredom and curiosity and because she wanted the money to go on an awesome vacation.
Two years later, I get a call from a Case Manager telling me I have been matched. Holy balls. After I filled out the donor profile, I pretty much forgot it existed. It's only been a couple of weeks but I am already a little overwhelmed by how easy this entire process actually is for me to do. I get to fly across the country and have a short little vacation while they harvest my eggos out of me and pass it over to someone who is willing to go to the ends of the earth and dig deep into their bank account to create a child.
I created a donor profile by letting the intended parents know my likes/dislikes, my family medical history and by posting some adorable pictures of myself. Someone saw me and thought I looked enough like them to create one good looking bambino that could pass as their own.
I feel no connection to my eggs. I mostly just want them to go away every month without incident. They terrify me a little bit. Parenthood is one of the scariest things anyone is willing or forced to get themselves into. It doesn't really freak me out that some guy I've never met will have his sperm injected into my eggs and possibly create a little human being with toes and teeny tiny fingers. Once the eggs leave my body, they belong to someone else, and I'm happy to help out.
So it begins. I'll update as my experience progresses. I'll tell you about the psych exam and the legal consult over the next couple days. Let me know if you have any questions.
Two years later, I get a call from a Case Manager telling me I have been matched. Holy balls. After I filled out the donor profile, I pretty much forgot it existed. It's only been a couple of weeks but I am already a little overwhelmed by how easy this entire process actually is for me to do. I get to fly across the country and have a short little vacation while they harvest my eggos out of me and pass it over to someone who is willing to go to the ends of the earth and dig deep into their bank account to create a child.
I created a donor profile by letting the intended parents know my likes/dislikes, my family medical history and by posting some adorable pictures of myself. Someone saw me and thought I looked enough like them to create one good looking bambino that could pass as their own.
I feel no connection to my eggs. I mostly just want them to go away every month without incident. They terrify me a little bit. Parenthood is one of the scariest things anyone is willing or forced to get themselves into. It doesn't really freak me out that some guy I've never met will have his sperm injected into my eggs and possibly create a little human being with toes and teeny tiny fingers. Once the eggs leave my body, they belong to someone else, and I'm happy to help out.
So it begins. I'll update as my experience progresses. I'll tell you about the psych exam and the legal consult over the next couple days. Let me know if you have any questions.
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