Great News

She said yes!

She said yes. She said yes. She said yes.

The donor was contacted and she is excited and cannot wait to get started, says my nurse.

Hubby and I have refused to get too excited for fear that the person that we think is the perfect match for us might get cold feet, rethink her decision to become a donor, move out of the area, oh who knows what can happen between the moment you add your name (or not, in this case) to a list and are actually called upon?

But she said yes.

This beautiful, wonderful, fabulous woman has just agreed to give me a part of herself.

How, now, am I supposed to focus on anything but this great news?

Happy Birthday, Ruth

So, you’re probably wondering how it went. The Consultation.

We are still wondering out loud if it actually happened.

My guardian angel charms, rosaries and novena cards my mother smothered me with during treatment are long since discarded or lost. Neither myself nor my husband even subscribe to a religion. But we can’t help feeling that the day was charmed; that someone or something somewhere was watching us and guiding us through the beginning of what seems like it’s going to be one hell of an adventure.

We sat in a small, cozy room all afternoon as the doctor, the shrink, the nurse, and others paraded through with new pieces of information and new papers to add to our folders. Every single person was patient and kind and didn’t leave the room until we were finished probing them with questions and scenarios. The psychiatrist successfully eased my husband’s biggest anxiety of the day when she mapped out an alternative driving route home which avoided rush hour traffic.

They told us we are perfect candidates for the egg donation program; The program was made for people in situations like ours. Our youth works in our favor. As does the fact that we have made a conscious effort to get fit.

Music to our ears.

At the end of the day, we began looking through donor profiles and found the perfect match. The very first profile we saw. It felt right. It is right. I really can’t describe how elated we are. And that’s all I’m going to say, until she is contacted, says yes, the meds are ordered and the process begins. No jinx. No jinx.

My god, this is exciting.

19

Today marks 19 years in remission for me. Tomorrow is our first consultation at the fertility clinic. It’s kind of a big week.

We are scheduled to meet with the doctor, the shrink, the nurse practitioner, the financial advisor and the social worker. The whole nine yards. I took today off work just to review paperwork. Are we really going to do this? As of right now, I’m still thinking yes.

Filling out medical history forms shouldn’t be emotionally draining. But it is. Because no matter how well I feel now I am forced to recount in great detail a time when I didn’t.

If you responded yes to any of the above questions, please detail the event, the doctors and hospital involved and year in which they took place.

If you, or a member of your immediate family, has a history of any of the following illnesses or symptoms, please turn to side two and complete the additional questions.

And there’s the left hook of the one-two punch. I am adopted. So whenever faced with these questions, I have to write a big “N/A” or draw in an asterisk and try to fit in tiny letters somewhere on the already crowded form an explanation of why I have no idea whether or not breast cancer or heart disease runs in my family because I don’t know who my family is.

Please don’t tell me that the people that raised me are my family and the rest is irrelevant. I’m in no state to hear that. That was last week’s drama. That can be another post.

Today, the paperwork is finished, all of the remaining credit cards have been dredged out of drawers, dusted off, credit limits checked and hubby and I have given ourselves the fifteenth pep talk of the week.

Now, I want to refocus my energy on being physically and mentally prepared for the days to come. These are exciting times.

Today is my anniversary. Today I feel invincible.

Baby Loves Disco

Reason #12 to maybe try to have a baby:

So we can go here together on Saturday afternoons.

Very Important Question

If I am a Yankees fan and charge egg donor fees to a Red Sox credit card, would that give maybe baby bad sports karma for life?