Archive for the ‘Dreams of Angie- and egg donation!’ Category

A Snowball’s Chance

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10.18.09

A Snowball’s Chance

happy Snowball pix

My obsession with Angelina Jolie’s eggs kept me up last night. OK, I admit, it could appear somewhat homo-erotic, but that’s not what I’m getting at. If we are not preggers the “old fashioned way” : ) this month, we will resume our IVF journey in the next few weeks. After several lost pregnancies through IVF and IUI, I am pretty anxious about this round. Our Doctor (who I LOVE) recommends we continue with ICSI and IVF and hold off on pursuing a donor egg. She gave the Bear and I a slew of genetic tests (12 blood tests for me!) and did an endometrial biopsy to rule out endometritis as the cause of our frequent losses. Everything came back A-OK and we exhumed a big sigh of relief after the many weeks of waiting.

Still, I feel a little like a deer in the headlights on this round. I’m standing in the middle of the road, hoping I’m not hit again…

I love my Dr. because she is one of the best in her industry. She directs the Center for Infertility at a prominent hospital in Boston, and she teaches at Harvard Medical School. She takes the time to talk to us, and actually asks us how we are doing. I’ve dealt with some of her colleagues at the center, and it’s rare to get more than a grunt from some of them. Nevertheless, I believe that she cares deeply for her patients and she’ll give you straight up advice. She’s the kind of woman I would have liked to be friends with, in another time and place.

My obsession with Angelina and the eggs she bares has very little to do with Angelina Jolie herself. It’s what she personifies to me. She’s a sexual goddess yet she’s a seemingly devoted (and quite fertile) mother figure. Being married to an Italian, who’s also a Catholic, I recognize that women are often archetypally personified as the vixen (sexual and available), or the virgin (mother figure). But Angelina is both, it seems (at least to the camera). Her eggs seem like Faberge’.

Where is this going?

I guess I’m scared. I get overly “heady” when I’m scared. I’m scared of losing another one or having a baby with birth defects because of the age of my old eggs. I’m pretty messed up in the head right now.

My probability rate of getting pregnant with my eggs and having a live birth is about 23%-26% as per my Doctor. I compared the figure to other events with a similar probability, just to see how I felt about it:

  • In 2005, analysts predicted there would be a 1 in 4 chance of a recession in the next 12 months. (And look what happened!)
  • There is a 45.12% probability that a building will blow down in its lifetime!
  • There is a 23% probability that a “Great Flood” will occur every 25 years.
  • There is a 23% chance of snow in Columbus, Ohio on any given Christmas.
  • If you are a trucker, and are text messaging (or reading this!) you have a 22% greater chance of being involved in an accident in Portland, Oregon.

 

Wow. This stuff is pretty depressing, but I do know something without repute:

  • I am 500% loved by a man I adore, and I couldn’t ask for a better partner on this journey. (The Bear confirms this!)
  • I am happy for all I do have. All the people I have touched, who have touched me in return.
  • I have so very much to be thankful for. I need to sit in my power.
  • Even if my eggs are few, and not as fresh as they once were, they are beautiful, and treasured. And they are mine! : )

I Dreamed that Angelina Jolie was My Egg Donor

I dreamed that Angelina Jolie was my egg donor.

No really!

It’s a reoccurring dream I have been having lately. I am sitting on the couch eating pizza and Angie appears in a cloud of lemon meringue. At first I think she’s an angel. “I have a gift for you” she says demurely with a flash of her pearly bonded teeth. I notice the little satin pillow she as in her hand. It’s the cheezy kind you find on wedding websites for your ring-bearer. But there’s no ring. Just two tiny little fireflies buzzing above it. 

“Here…” she says, placing the pillow into my greasy pepperoni fingers. “For a mere $7,000,000 co-pay these can be yours. We can drop them into your womb and you would have a 61 % success rate at conceiving.(another smile). Isn’t that better than your measly 22% at your age and (ahem) size?”

I notice that her collarbone lifts gently from the bodice of her gown . Her arms are white and veiny. As she hands me the pillow I think. “Gee, she IS pretty! We would have beautiful children. But would I feel they are truly MINE? I mean, I would be nurturing them in my body, and I’d love them as much as if they came from my own DNA. We COULD mortgage the condo, maybe get a few more jobs. I think we could drum up some extra cash, but not the $7mm required for this transaction!

My husband comes in to the room holding a beer. He’s speechless at the arrival of our new visitor. I can sense he is leaving some room for ME to make this decision. He loves me and would support my wishes and dreams (and who can refute the astounding cuteness of our future offspring, if this were to pass).

I look at Angelina in her stunning gown and baubles. I think of all the adventure and excitement I have had in my life. I HAVE been truly blessed in that way. But these experiences have prolonged my settling down, my time of finding the right  partner. Now I’m 41 and newlywed, and ANGELINA JOLIE is offering me her eggs!

“Limited time offer” she says. Head cocked to one side as she glances at me through those crazy lashes.

I look at the “fireflies” buzzing gently in my hands. So delicate and beautiful. I look at my husband. I know he will be the best father in the world. He’s already the best husband. I consider the chemical pregnancies we have had and the misscarriage I seem to be having this weekend….”A 61% success rate” I think. That would end the hurt and the pain of these losses.

She glows like a cloud of frosting. I would eat her if I could. 

“No thank you, Angelina.” I reply. (I dare not call her Angie.)” As kind and thoughtful as the offer is, we will have to decline.” My husband utters a surprising sigh of relief. “We’ll try naturally for a few months and then we’ll do IVF again. There’s still time…” I reply, a little teary eyed.

 

Almost celestial!

Almost celestial!

“OK.” She whispers.”But if you change your mind, or need me in the future, I’ll be out on Long Island wrapping up my latest film. The offers good until your insurance runs out.”  She flashes another brilliant smile and turns to leave. “Ummm?” She stalls, with a guilty, beseeching look that almost makes me grin “Can I have a slice of that pizza?” She asks. “I haven’t eaten in months.”