When it rains, it pours...

In preparing for the upcoming wedding, Mr. Warrior and I called up some family members who live on the opposite coast and offered to pay for their trip and stay in town should they have the time to make it to the ceremony. In part, we were doing this because these cousins were the first to welcome Mr. Warrior into the family without reservations. (For a long time Mr. Warrior was not accepted by my family and I was disowned, but that is a post for another day.) They are also the family we are closest to and since our wedding will be a small affair without a DJ, photographer and many other things that tend to make a wedding expensive, we decided to spend the money on people who have meant a great deal to us throughout our relationship. One of these cousins is someone we had on our “short list” to ask as a possible donor for IVF. She is single and older than me, so her age is not ideal, but I have always felt close to her and have always been comfortable talking to her about the things going on in my life. However, we had not yet broached the subject of donor egg with her.

Two days ago, she called to say she would be coming to the wedding. Mr. Warrior was at home at the time and they talked. At some point in the conversation, she half-jokingly asked why the rush after all these years? She had known we were trying to get pregnant again and was probably wondering if we were finally successful. (In fact, most of the people we invited are probably wondering the same thing.) That’s when Mr. Warrior told her about my recent test results and that we were thinking about her as a donor for us. When he first told me what he did, I was surprised but ok with it. We had wanted to talk to her in person, but this opportunity opened up and I’m glad he took it.

Last night, I called her again to get her final travel details and she told me about her recent trip to Hawaii. I hadn’t been sure if I was ready to talk about the donor egg subject with her myself, but then she told me about how she lost her driver’s license during her trip. How she has this habit of pulling out her ID and credit card and putting it in her back pocket when she doesn’t feel like carrying her purse. And how weird it was she still had her credit card but not the driver’s license. All through her story, I could picture everything she did. Every move, her thinking process as she was doing it, the very pocket she placed the items in because, that is something I do, too. Now, I know this is probably not something unique to just my cousin and me. I’m sure lots of women do this. But, at that moment it really hit me that we really are alike. Mr. Warrior had tried to convince me of this before. He saw similarities in the two of us that I never realized were there, until last night. And we know that her life values are similar to ours. In fact, many years ago we went to visit her and after the first day, Mr. Warrior and I both had the same thought--that if we ever had children and something happened to us, we would want her to raise our kids.

So, last night, I decided to talk to her about being our donor. The conversation was emotionally wrenching and draining, but in a good way. There were many issues we touched upon. Like how her first reaction when Mr. Warrior asked was that this was a gift of life and she was willing to give it. I could hear in her voice how much she really meant it. I almost broke into tears. I know we have much more to talk about because we all have concerns about what this would mean for our relationship with each other. And because of her age, it’s not a sure thing that she could be a donor for us even if we were all ok with it.

But, for the second time in two weeks, I see a future that is not bleak and empty but full of possibilities. I know this in no way guarantees a pregnancy or a baby for me. But, I know one day I will have a family. I don’t know what path I will need to take and how difficult it may be, but I am going to get there.

Emily at Scrambled Eggs wrote an amazing post on how infertility was like being thrown into a prison, unexpectedly and for no good reason. It is exactly how this last 18 months or so has felt for me. I don’t know what has happened to me in these last weeks since getting my FSH results back, but things are different. Getting that FSH of 31 was devastating but I think it started something that has somehow led me out of the prison. Maybe I have only found my way out to the exercise yard, but it feels good to breathe the fresh air and feel the rain falling on my face.