10 Little Fingers, 10 Little Toes

My baby niece has just be born,  

I walked into that hospital room holding hands with my husband, unaware of how this first meeting would turn out, would I feel any unhealthy attachment to the baby? My own flesh and blood?

I had felt no more than the usual proud aunty feelings during the pregnancy, after all it was just an egg, a tiny microscopic cell all the hormones and hard work was done by my Sister In Law. But there was always the little worry in the back of my mind that actually meeting my niece, my biological daughter, could stir up unwanted emotions. What if she looked like me or my other children?

I took a deep breath and we opened the door.

She was beautiful, her mother lay on the bed cradling the tiny baby, glowing with pride and dreams for her new daughter. That sheer beauty of a first time mother staring into her babies eyes, pure love and anticipation knowing that she is embarking on a journey that will change her life forever in the most wonderful ways.

The proud father was sitting next to the bed exhausted from a night of no sleep but without a care in the world, just smiling at his first born child with a look of absolute devotion in his eyes.

We were the first family members told of the arrival and it was nice for the four of us to have some quiet time to bond a little before hoards of visitors arrived. We marvelled at how amazing the journey had been and how thankful we were that we live in an era where miracles really can happen.

My sister in law handed me her baby, and as I held the precious little girl in my arms she opened her big owl eyes and looked up at me, as our gaze met an immediate feeling of relief washed over me, and although I knew I would love her until the day I die, she did not feel like my child, she had found her true place in the world.

So many stars had lined up perfectly to bring her into existence and at that moment it was clear that everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

Perfect.

Well, that’s that then.

After two full on weeks and months of preparation, it’s all over.

Kind of anti climatic, so much work up and then all of a sudden my part is done. Finished.

Yesterday around 8am SIL, BIL and I pushed open the double glass doors of the fertility clinic for Egg Pick Up (EPU), it was a surreal feeling -this was make or break time.

The lovely receptionist ushered us through a door and into a little area with a few lockers, a bench seat and doorways leading off from it marked ‘theatre’ and ‘ultrasound’, she indicated towards a third door marked ‘change room’ and gave me a warm smile.

Everything off and then everything on said the receptionist as she pointed to a little blue basket with sexy looking gown, robe, hat and booties in it.

Gorgeous Huh?

After I was all gowned up, they took us through to the recovery area with a couch and hospital bed where we would wait for my turn on the table. We joked nervously with each other for a while taking happy snaps of the three of us together which we could later present to any offspring on their 21^st birthdays as the day of their conception.

We had a brief scare when we asked the fertility specialist if it was ok that I was not bloated at all that morning when the previous day I had looked 4 months pregnant not really thinking much of it – the concerned look on her face was quickly covered up by a rather fake looking smile as she said I’m sure its fine and rushed me back into the door marked ‘ultrasound’ where they checked to make sure I hadn’t ovulated earlier than expected – ‘it’s very rare’ she reassured me, ‘but its better we find out now than when we get into theatre...’

Luckily, I’m just a freak and the follicles were all still there panic averted we went back into the recovery/waiting area, briefly saw the embryologist who looked younger than me and the anaesthetist an older man who bore a striking resemblance to Dr Mike from All Saints, then the nurse called me into theatre.

Now I was quite nervous, walking into a huge room with more people than I realised would be there I climbed onto the bed, lay down and the nurse put a warm blanket over me. The anaesthetist held my hand and told me he would now put in a canula to administer my drug cocktail. The FS chatted about random stuff while she waited and I realised the canula was already in, I hadn’t even felt it.

Dr Mike held up a syringe of clear liquid and said now I’m going to give you some happy juice, it will make you feel awesome, like being stoned and he winked, don’t worry, you probably won’t remember this conversation .I got the distinct impression Dr Mike knew exactly what it’s like to feel stoned...

The FS said it takes about 20sec to work, and to tell her when I start to feel it, at that moment my head started spinning, “there it is” I said, ‘that was quick’ she remarked and  I woke up in the recovery area with an oxygen mask on my face.

It’s a very strange feeling to know that you have been totally violated while you slept and upon awakening you wouldn’t have a clue that it had happened if they didn’t tell you. It was a lot better than I expected though a bit of very mild pain in the tummy but more like doing too many sit ups the day before than actual painful pain though going to the toliet hurts like buggery!

My SIL and BIL came in and announced they had harvested an awesome 22 eggs! I had a cup of tea and some toast before having the canulas taken out and being given permission to get dressed again. Once fully clothed and heading out I dignified myself by nearly falling down again – a bit like when you have been drinking all night sitting down then you get up to go to the loo and it hits you all at once.  

We rested at SIL’s place for a while and then she presented me with a huge beautiful bouquet of flowers and drove me back home to the farm and to my darling husband and own bunch of noisy little monkeys that I am so, very lucky to have.

And now it’s done, my part is over and the rest is up to her. I had a call from the clinic this morning who informed me 13 eggs had fertilized which is apparently an excellent result although to be honest I was a bit disappointed that it was only 13 out of 22 possibilities. The next 5 days will see how many make it to blastocyst stage and then they will transfer one to her and freeze the others for future use.

Fingers crossed x

Just Between You & Me (and the rest of the world..)

image credit

Secrets are funny things, and problematic ones to those of us who blog – you see, it’s against human nature to hide stuff – we have a yearning to talk it out. But sometimes the fear that those we ‘talk it out’ to may in turn ‘talk it out’ to others, can often prevent us from telling those closest to us some very important things. So we blog them instead, blatantly sharing our private innermost thoughts masked by an often false sense of anonymity.

I was chatting to a friend on the phone the other day, she is also a blogger and the only real life friend I have who knows about my blog. She enquired as to weather or not SIL & I had spoken to the rest of the IL family about the impending egg donation - the answer to which was not yet, the only people who know are you, me and.... well, the rest of the world.

It then dawned on me how potentially writing about this could hurt my husband’s family – what if they find out about my blog one day and become aware that the whole cyber world knew something they didn’t that would affect them directly for the rest of their lives?

SIL, BIL and I had the ‘when do we tell?’ discussion again after our FIRST IVF APPOINTMENT.

It has already been decided that the child and of course family in general will know about the donation and who donated – my own children will (when they are old enough to understand) know that their cousin/s are genetically their siblings.

The IL family are already aware that SIL & BIL would most likely need an egg donor, but they don’t know that I offered, they accepted and now we are going ahead.

To talk about one’s infertility is hard, to decide if or when to discuss IVF is a deeply personal decision that only those going through it can begin to understand.

I have told SIL that it’s a choice for them to make, and not me as they are the parents of this future child – I am purely supplying a piece of DNA for the puzzle.

If we told the family, I think MIL would be happy, after the 8 grandbabies her sons have produced, I think she is really looking forward to her little girl carrying a child whatever the means, plus she would be able to help with babysitting during any awkward IVF appointment times.

This being said, SIL has also commented on feeling like she is constantly being monitored for signs of pregnancy by the people that know of their previous IVF attempts and I have been getting little “Ooh she didn’t have wine at the party on the weekend, do you think she might be pregnant finally?” comments from people, so those feelings are justified...

The truth is personally I would rather they waited until there is a confirmed pregnancy, but for purely selfish reasons.

I know my IL family and feel like there would be lot of pressure to ''perform'. Whilst I am young and tick all the right ‘Egg Donor’ boxes, I secretly worry, what if there is something wrong with my eggs? What if there is a genetic condition that makes BIL& I incompatible? What if the pregnancy doesn’t hold?

I also now know that my other SIL (SIL2) went to her doctor to find out if she was able to donate, but due to a thyroid condition she cannot. SIL2 and I have a rocky past and I wonder how she would feel that they are going to use my egg. That her children will not be genetically related to the potential babies?

I like to think that when all is said and done all anyone wants out of this is to see SIL & BIL with a happy, healthy family and hopefully any ill feelings of not being told will be forgotten when a baby is born.

But for now, let’s just keep it between you and me.