I wear a little silver ring on the third finger of my left hand. It’s a simple ring: a thin band embellished with a roughly-ovular shaped bowled accent. A hand-shaped silver sphere is nestled in the middle of this crude bowl, as imperfectly spherical as its resting place, a sign of the authenticity of the rustic craftsmanship. A local silversmith created this ring, and it caught my eye as I was browsing through a shop two days after my retrieval. I’d taken a long, slow, gentle bike ride around town that day, taking care of a couple of minor errands and enjoying the beautiful day.
One would think that cycling around anywhere only two days after surgery requiring anesthesia might not be the best idea, that perhaps a little more R & R would be better, to give the body time to heal. This is the beauty of egg retrieval. While it’s a surgical procedure that is conducted under either light sedation or anesthesia, the procedure itself is so minor that you’ll only spend about 3-4 hours at the surgery center, in most cases. For me, we arrived an hour in advance of my scheduled procedure. About fifteen minutes later my “companion” aka my boyfriend and chauffeur for the day, and I were escorted into a room where my vital signs were checked and the pre-op checklist was reviewed. Did I have any allergies to any drugs? Did I have asthma? Did I have any questions about the procedure? I was put on an IV and sedated fairly promptly, with the anesthesiologist—who took the time to come to my room and chat with me personally for a few minutes before the retrieval—starting the sedation process while I was still in that room. My surgeon, who I’d met several times already during my injection cycle and physical, came in to greet me and see how I was doing, and by the time I was being wheeled into the operating room, the sedatives were starting to take effect. I waved and smiled at my surgeon, who I could tell was smiling even behind the surgical mask he wore, and the next thing I knew, I woke up.
Waking up from anesthesia is a strange experience, mostly because you don’t feel that any time has passed. I knew I’d feel this way: my last retrieval left me with the same sensation of what happened? The retrieval? So quickly? In reality, an hour or so usually passes, but it still feels like the blink of an eye. After adjusting to this, it was a matter of assessing body trauma, at least as best as I was able to given the loopy state I was in. I felt bloated, and sore, and really crampy. Fortunately, I was in this state because I’d just donated eggs, and I can’t think of a time I’ve been treated more like a queen. My nurse was at my side the very moment my eyes fluttered open, talking to me gently, asking me how I felt, and giving me pain medication. She and the other nurses in the recovery area would check on me every few minutes and when I was hurting again, would give me more pain medication.
This was an interesting situation for me because, as an avid athlete blessed with a generally tolerant immune system who takes nothing stronger than allergy medication and ibuprofen, I’m not one to request pain medication unless I’m in a fair amount of pain. In this instance, my cramps were pretty severe and realizing what my body had just been through, I figured I’d respond to what I thought I really needed in terms of taking care of myself and being nice to my body, which had just been put through some mild trauma. Within an hour I was out of the bed, eating crackers and drinking Sprite to calm my stomach down.
The source of the bloating and cramping was soon revealed as the nurse informed me that they’d retrieved 52 eggs from my ovaries during the procedure. If 52 seems like a pretty high number, it should; even my nurse was surprised by it. While we’d been expecting—by follicle counts during the ultrasounds leading up to the retrieval—a fairly high count, 52 blew my expectations out of the water. And I felt really good knowing that my recipient couple would be receiving so many opportunities to create their family using my eggs. I was tired and sore and cramping, but I was also overjoyed. The work we’d all done: my recipient parents, the clinic staff with whom I’d worked so closely, the wonderful folks at Extraordinary Conceptions who buoyed my spirits and helped me navigate the sometimes-tricky legal world of anonymous egg donation, my support system—my boyfriend, colleagues and close friends, and my family—who’d shown me unflagging support and, of course, me, had culminated in the abundant prospects my recipient family would now have. I was fatigued and I was sore, but I was elated.
Fifteen minutes later I was going over my release instructions with my nurse and subsequently being wheeled out to the car. The ride back home, about an hour away, was probably the most uncomfortable part of the procedure: the jolts of the car going over manhole covers, moderate bumps and dips, and the like agitated my already sore abdomen. Next time, I’ll bring along a pillow for more cushioning on the way home.
Next time? You may be thinking. She’s willing to do this again? Oh yes, absolutely. The tradeoff is, for me, so favorable for all involved parties that it doesn’t make sense not to do it again, if I’m fortunate enough to be chosen to donate my eggs again. Certainly, egg donation isn’t a decision to be made lightly, and the process is designed to guarantee, to as great a degree as possible, the sincerity and devotion of both the donor and the recipient, or intended, parents, while protecting the legal rights of all involved parties. Egg donation is serious business: as a donor, you need to be prepared to attend a lot of medical appointments, especially in the couple of weeks prior to retrieval, to give yourself injections, even to undergo a minor surgery. Donors have an incredible responsibility to their recipients, and to themselves, throughout the donation process.
With this responsibility, however, comes immense satisfaction. The knowledge that you have contributed to the creation of a family that quite possibly would never exist without you is an understanding that can only come from going through a donation cycle, but the feelings of empathy, of gratitude, of hope for this family never fully leave you. The aftermath of both of my donations have left me with this understanding, and I know that if I’m fortunate enough to go through this experience again, I’ll feel the same way the next time around. The enormity of my contribution is immeasurable, as is the gratefulness I also feel for the role I have in helping this family.
That said, the donor fee is also, of course, appreciated, and is generally the impetus for most women to consider anonymous egg donation. The fee is great; it was the reason I listed with Extraordinary Conceptions in the first place and I certainly need the money. The incredible part of the donation experience, though, was what I received from the process that has been, for me, absolutely invaluable. You can’t put a price on helping a family, on fulfilling the dream of a couple, on giving a stranger the greatest gift they’ll ever receive. I hope that, for all of you prospective donors out there who are considering this experience, you can try to factor this into your decision, but there’s really no way of knowing until you actually go through with it. And boy, is it ever worth it.
It’s been about a week and a half since my retrieval, and my life has been back to its pre-donation normality for about the past week. On the day of the retrieval I went home and spent most of the day relaxing at home, although I did venture out for a very slow, very short walk in my pajama pants that evening. For the first few days afterwards I experienced some cramping and soreness, but by Sunday—my retrieval was on Friday—I went on a three-hour bike ride to run errands and enjoy the beautiful day and the end of the weekend. On Monday I was back to work, and by midweek I was back to routinely walking and bicycling everywhere. Keep in mind: this is not exactly Tour De France riding here; I ride a heavy cruiser bike and live in, fortunately, a small enough city that allows me to get pretty much anywhere by bike, but it was great to be active again, and so quickly. Just yesterday, ten days after my retrieval, I went rock climbing at one of my favorite crags near my home.
Throughout this process I’ve fond that a lot of people are really interested in egg donation, and have fielded a ton of questions about the process. So many, in fact, that I am currently creating a blog to address the egg donation process and experiences I’ve had, with the focus being a donor’s perspective on donation. I invite you to check it out if you’d like more information from my point of view, or if you’re just interested in the process from a donor’s standpoint. You can find it at http://eggingmeon.wordpress.com. You can also contact me directly at eggingmeon@gmail.com if you have any questions. I’d be happy to answer them to the best of my ability.
Extraordinary Conceptions doesn’t pay me to write these posts; this evolved from my regular communication with the staff at this agency and subsequent volunteering to contribute to the agency’s blog. That aid, I recommend this agency unequivocally; the staff manage to be brilliant and professional as well as warm, kind and cordial while working with clients undergoing some of the most stressful decisions of their lives. They’re a truly incredible group of individuals dedicated to helping families achieve their dreams, and they do it with incredible grace and skill. I admire and appreciate their work, and I’m sure the rest of their clients do as well.
