Tuesday, Mar. 04, 2008 1:45 p.m.

it's safe to say that today mattered

I got to meet the woman who is getting my eggs today. I wasn't expecting to, and I'm actually crying as I write this right now. It could be the insane amount of hormones I've pumped into my body the past couple weeks, or it could be the card I just read from her.

But this whole thing became real today.

Today was the retrieval. I was both nervous and excited this morning, knowing I would be going under anesthesia, not knowing how my body would react afterwards, hoping that I got a good number of eggs and that a couple I never met would get pregnant from it.

I wasn't expecting to meet her though. I was in the prep room, dressed in my hospital gown, waiting for the nurse and the anesthesiologist. The nurse came in with a small bag, containing pain medication for later and a small potted plant and two envelopes from the intended couple. She held up one of the envelopes, "This has a picture of the couple, they dropped it off in case you wanted to see what they looked like, but if not, that's ok."

I knew this donation had been intended to be anonymous, and I was touched that the couple had even wanted me to see who they were.

When I told the nurse I was indeed interested in seeing who they were, she said that the wife was actually still there, if I wanted to meet her. I was shocked. The recipient couples usually don't want to meet the donors; it's easier on them if things don't work out. I told her I did, but only if she was comfortable with it.

As I sat in the room, in nothing but a hospital gown and robe, no makeup, my hair back in a cap, I wondered if she'd come. If she'd want to meet me. If I'd be acceptable to her, now that it was too late to turn back. I knew they had seen pictures and knew my medical history, but would she be disappointed seeing me in person?

The nurse brought her back into my room. I gave her a hug, not knowing if that was awkward, or expected, or what. It's not like there is a standard behavior expectation in a situation like that. I kept looking at her as we chatted, mentally noting our similar features, trying to make myself understand that this was the lady I was enabling to become a mother, that this is who I had been sticking myself with needles for. I don't think it ever really sunk in until now, hours later.

Neither of us knew what to say; I think we both understood the importance of the moment. We'd forever be a part of each other's lives, bound together in this one way, yet this moment was all we knew we'd ever get. She thanked me many times; I tried to convey the honor I felt that she had chosen me for this.

It was only a few moments before the anesthesiologist came in, had me sign some forms and whisked me away. I said goodbye, still not believing what had really just unfolded.

The procedure was simple, or I'm assuming it must have been. I was out for it. I woke up about 20 minutes later to K in the the recovery room. I drank some gatorade, I joked with the nurses about which conversations I remembered just before I went to sleep. I changed into my normal clothes, I left in a procedural wheelchair.

I'm lying on the couch at home now, a heating pad on my stomach, a nausea pill in my bloodstream, since I couldn't get up off the bathroom floor when I first got home. They told me they got around 50 eggs, but they don't know yet how many were mature. 50 is a ridiculously high number, by the way. Almost scary high. And to think that my first donation was canceled because my levels were too high and they didn't think I would respond well to the medications...

It only really matters how many mature eggs there were though, I'm hoping at least 20-30. I hope they were good eggs too. Good quality. I hope they make lots of good embryos. I hope they become pregnant.

Because now that I'm home, and looking at these flowers, and re-reading this card she wrote me, and now that I know that she is a real live person - I really, really, really, hope this means a child for them.

I'm so glad I got to do this.

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