The fertility doctor we’d worked with had his staff call me when Allie was a couple of months old to check on me, and to ask us to bring her over so he could meet her. Today at lunch was the meeting we’d arranged. Having received the blow from Nanny Susanne this morning, I could use some getting-out anyway. Mr. W had agreed to come out during lunchtime and meet us at the clinic. After I told him about Susanne, he took the rest of the afternoon off to stay with us. What a great guy I have.
Allie was smiling at everyone like she knew them, as if she in spirit form had been there and remembers them. “This is where you started,” Mr. W told Allie.
Dr. R was all smiles when he saw her. “She’s beautiful!” He asked how I’m doing, and I told him about my postpartum depression. He said not to worry, it’ll start to fix itself once my hormones regulate as the baby starts to breastfeed less. He assumed we’re all exhausted from being up every few hours and that contributes, too. I told him Allie typically sleeps through the night. He asked if I’m pumping, and I told him she typically goes to bed around 7:30p and wakes around 7a, and I get up around 5a to pump because I’m so uncomfortable. He said because I’m getting 8-10 hours of no milk expression overnight, that my body would recover its hormones faster, and expects I’d feel better within a matter of weeks instead of months. Reading my mind, he added this doesn’t “dry up” my milk supply; that doesn’t happen until I stop feeding her breastmilk. “But sleeping through the night helps you feel a lot better, right?” I told him about how Dodo was diagnosed with Stage 2 kidney disease and has been yowling every few hours through the night (yeah, he started doing the overnight thing again; less loudly, but every 2-3 hours. I received his meds a couple of days ago and have administered them twice a day since).
Dr. R said in passing that we still have 3 more embryos for future beautiful children.
Mr. W said we were also here to discuss that, and to stop storage for them. Dr. R said we don’t have to decide that now, that can come way later. Mr. W said we already know we’re done having kids, and I made a crack that he’s taking advantage of my postpartum depression state. Mr. W laughed, put his arm around me, and said yeah, he wants me to sign the papers to let them go before I change my mind. Dr. R laughed and suggested we wait awhile.
When he realized we were serious, however, he invited us into his office to talk in private. He suggested that most people wait until the baby is about a year old, when we know his/her personality better, and the groggy period of new parent-dom has passed to decide whether we want more kids. When we release the embryos, we can decide whether to have the clinic dispose of them, or we can donate the embryos to medical studies, or we can donate them to a couple for implantation. I said we always agreed that we would only have one, and Mr. W added that he’s too old to consider more kids. I asked about the ethics of donating the embryos, how they go to the recipients, etc. He explained that the clinic is not in the business of giving out embryos; in fact, if someone calls and asks if they have embryos for implant, the answer is no. However, on occasion, there is the couple who has multiple failed IVF attempts with the clinic, have run thru the gamut of options, and are now sitting before him thinking they could never have children. He would know this couple pretty well by then, and would know if they could care for a baby. And then he could tell them that there is another option they have never discussed. The clinic makes no money off the donation; they charge the same for implanting my own embryos as they would implanting the embryo into anyone else. A couple he’d recently done this for went through SIX failed IVF cycles, failed donor sperm inseminations, and were out of money and crestfallen. He finally offered a precious embryo donated by another past patient and they finally had their baby.
I wanted to do this, but I wanted a little more reassurance. I said, “A mixed-race embryo would be hard to find for a mixed-race couple, right?” He said he would LOVE to have my embryos, altho he thinks this shouldn’t be a decision to be made on a whim on our parts. But yes, the embryos would be better than gold; they would be the best gift imaginable for the recipient couple. However, he told me to consider that I may wonder with every kid I see who looks kind of like Allie. He has a pair of patients whose IVF kids are in college, and they’re still paying for embryo storage instead of donating as they’re on the fence. The father said he just knows that he’d be at the airport and see a curly-haired kid and wonder, “Is that my son? Is that my daughter?” and that it would drive him insane.
I can totally see that, and it would probably make me always wonder, too… but the thought of how MUCH a couple would want the kid, how precious a gift that would be, and especially for an infertile mixed-race couple to have an opportunity to birth and parent a baby who’s mixed just like they are…that far outweighs my curiosities and discomforts, right? That couple would love our little girl or boy so incredibly much, and they would be so ready for parenthood; much more ready than someone who got drunk at a party and met someone else who looked hot through beer goggles.
Mr. W reminded me of my beliefs that the soul which comes through is meant to be with the parents that raise him/her, regardless of the body or vehicle that the soul uses to come through. I’m only providing a means, not a soul.
We spent longer than we’d expected at the clinic, filling out background questionnaires and family histories, signing over the embryos and relinquishing our rights to the children they may grow into. We each gave 8 large vials of blood for them to run tests. When the test results come back, if everything is clear, the doctor will sign off on the forms and the future of these embryos will be in his hands.
All the embryo-related transfers and implantations will be anonymous. We know it’s likely to be a local couple, since the recipients will be patients of the doctor first. So what Dr. R does, if we want, is provide a date of birth for us. That confused me. We won’t even know a gender, what’s the DOB for? “Let’s say she comes home one day with a new boyfriend a few years younger, and you think, ‘Hmm, he looks familiar.’ You can then ask, ‘Hey, when’s your birthday?’ If it’s a match, then you call his mom and say, ‘Uh, have you had prior associations with [fertility clinic name]?’ She’ll likely freak out, but then you’ll know.” Ah.
So today, I’ve done things I never would’ve expected to a few years ago. I cried because the perfect nanny that felt like my one light at the end of the tunnel disappeared on me. I medicated my cat for high blood pressure caused by terminal kidney disease. And we visited the doctor that made it all possible, where Allie as a concept started, and I took a deep breath & signed over my 3 remaining embryos to them so that if a hopeful-eyed mixed couple finds themselves out of IVF options after many failed attempts, my doctor can offer them the best gift I am able to give total strangers.
I need a good cry later.
