I’m running out of sheep :-\

Thanks to an ill advised afternoon nap I’m having trouble sleeping! So I decided to empty my mind by writting.

I was wondering earlier today whether or not to tell The Kids about my donation yet, and debating with myself whether they need to know. The Son (age 5) wouldn’t really understand, and The Daughter (age 8)  would ask too many questions that I feel she isn’t mature enough yet to have answered. I don’t think they’ll have a problem with the injections I’ll have to give myself, in fact they’ll most likely not notice – The Husband is diabetic, so injections in this house are common place. So when IS the right time to tell them they might have a genetic half sibling, I wonder?

In addition, Mr and Mrs Recipient aren’t part of our family life and The Kids haven’t met them. Although that may change in the future.

So anyway, the next appointment is on the 29th with the consultant, and I’ll also have my screening done that day. Thinking I maybe should have asked what I’m being screened for, I assume genetic conditions and STD’s. I’m sure I’ll find out on the day.

I sometimes think I’m a little too laid back!


The chicken or the egg …

I’ve made some decisions recently. Some huge, some small, some inconsequential, some with a bit more gravitas! One was to start a blog, documenting the journey I’m about to embark on. A second to grow a pair and do something brave. Another was to embark upon a journey into assisted conception clinics and having cameras popped up my nether regions.

See what I mean about the decisions?!

A few weeks ago, I was told of a woman, a family friend, who is unable to conceive and required an egg donor. Her last volunteer was too old and her AMH (Anti Mullerian Hormone) levels were too low to be of any use. My (seldom used, slightly rusty) logical side piped up “you’re young, never had bother getting up the pole – he only has to wave it in your general direction and the morning sickness kicks in – and your family is complete …” And the next thing I knew, I was putting myself forward!

Queue a million emails and text messages from Mrs Recipient to check I’m sure. Upon assuring her that yes, I am, we coordinate our diaries to go to the (gorgeous, hotel-like private) fertility clinic to have a small vial of  blood drawn for an AMH test of my own. In that tiny tube were pinned Mr and Mrs Recipient’s hopes of a family. I crossed my fingers and hoped that my assumptions and outward confidence about my own über-fertility were not misguided.

A nerve wracking week passed. I had my phone glued to my person at all times, and for once The Husband didn’t mind, instead looked on with a mixture of sympathy and expectation every time an email came in. Mrs Recipient sent me an email with the title “AMH Results”, and my heart jumped up into my mouth to get a front row seat to read it! It was a copy and paste of all the emails she’d sent to the clinic over the course of that day, which culminated in one line … “no results yet, I’ll let you know a soon as they tell me” … False alarm, stand down, panic over. The email came the next day though, my AMH level is 11, and I’m considered suitable to become an egg donor. And yes I did burst into Happy Tears!