nokids

New ads, new contacts, new emailing correspondence – eventually I found a new egg donor.

We chatted over the telephone and then she kindly invited me for lunch. I knew that one of the most important aspects of getting this relationship to work was to minimise the inconvenience to the egg donor, so I needed someone who lived as close as possible to the clinic (as well as being intelligent, nice, fertile, agreeing to meet the child when 18 etc, etc, etc – I wasn’t asking much!) As I did not live near to the clinic myself, that meant yet another 4 hour whizz down the motorway for me.

My new egg donor E did indeed have all those qualities that I was seeking. In addition, she had 3 young children and was only 27, with a degree in biology, specialising in genetics. I had a lovely lunch with her – we thoroughly got on, and I loved chatting to her 18 month old little girl, who eventually felt relaxed enough with me to climb onto my lap.

Of course, I was on trial too, so I was not as relaxed as my new little friend – I was so conscious that I had to win mum round too. Kind egg donors are as rare as hen’s teeth. Getting on with E’s little girl helped a lot I think – she could see I liked kids and they liked me.

Anyway, we reached agreement about everything, and E convinced me that her partner was supportive. I did the usual – writing her a letter setting out what we had agreed and confirming that I could only pay her expenses, and she signed and returned one copy of the letter for me to keep. The letter included her full name and date of birth together with her partner’s surname, as they were planning to marry at some point in the future. This was so that I would always be able to trace her if the child wanted to get in touch when grown up. I provided E with similar identifying information about myself.

So we were all set to go.

Three embryos were transferred into me - a speedy, painless but embarrassing procedure – think stirrups – need I say more. I did not get pregnant, But that was cool – I knew the stats and I knew my luck, and I still had one embryo left that had been frozen.

Slightly out of sync, my agency at last found me another temp job after a few weeks of my hanging about after the failed IVF transfer. During those few weeks, I was pondering how soon to have another go with the frozen embryo. I soon got over my disappointment and as soon as I felt fine and the clinic ok’d it, I started tanking up on the ole hormones again, in preparation for the transfer of my last embryo. I explained to my work that my plans had changed and I had to take another month off. They were somewhat taken aback – but I was a temp, so what could they do.

(I needed a clear work-free period to cope with the anxiety of going through it all again and for the time involved in going backwards and forwards in my 4 to 5 hour car journeys every time the clinic wanted to check my progress.)

The frozen embryo transfer went ahead without a hitch (an FET as they call it in the business) - and I got pregnant! Just as I had not been surprised before when I did not get pregnant, so I did not feel too surprised when I got pregnant this time – I was young (in my eyes), and healthy, I had always wanted to be pregnant – of course I would get pregnant!

I went back to work. My boss told me he only needed me for another 2 weeks – but I was a temp, so what could I do. The agency lined up another job for me – to start after a few weeks.

Then I started bleeding again.

Then I started crying again.

I went back to the clinic – the pregnancy had disappeared.

I was still recovering from this disappointment when I started my new job.

I got chatting to a colleague L who had started the same day as me. After a few weeks, L came to tell me some great news – she was pregnant! Please would I not tell anyone just yet – she wanted to wait until she was 3 months pregnant. I forced a smile to my face and congratulated her. Her due date was the same as mine would have been.

I never told anyone at that office what I had been through – I was too hurt, plus I have a life-time habit of keeping my personal life separate from my work life.

L went on maternity leave, and then she and her husband moved away, so she never came back to work. But about a year later, she paid a surprise visit to the office, to bring in her baby to show everyone. Lovely baby, smiles and chubby cheeks, and I got to hold her too! But later, I also got to weep in the toilets…