Gift for Teachers Tutorial: Sweet Tea Lemon Sugar Scrub

The girls' Kindergarten teachers have been really great this year, the girls love them. We were talking about the end of the school year (which is this Thursday!) and Arlene got teared up and said that she's really going to miss her teacher. Awwww!  

We wanted to make a little end-of-the-year thanks-for-being-great gifts for them! For Christmas, we had made the teachers Brown Sugar Hand Scrub, which you can read about here. The teachers all commented how much they loved it, so, we decided to do a summer version!  I found a recipe online at Pauladeen.com for Sweet Tea with Lemon Sugar Scrub, so that's what we made! It's a good craft to make with kids because it can't be messed up.

Here's the recipe:

Sweet Tea with Lemon Sugar Scrub

{I put the scrub into little Mason jars, the 4-ounce size. Paula Deen's recipe was for the bigger pint jars. I halved her recipe and modified it a little in other ways.}

8 4-ounce glass jars with screw-tight lids

2 cups almond oil

3 tea bags

Zest of one lemon

Juice from 2 lemons

Lemon essential oil

White sugar

Directions:

{We made our scrubs two containers at a time.} 

Pour the almond oil in a container {I used a glass measuring cup} and add the tea bags. Let soak in the sun for at least an hour. My sun ray kept shifting but I wasn't paying attention to it, so I had my oil tea outside for probably about three hours total - I kept having to move it around. When it was done, it didn't smell overpowering like tea, just a hint.

Remove tea bags from oil and squeeze excess oil out of the bags and into container.

In a separate bowl, measure out one heaping cup of sugar.

Add in the tea oil ... we added in 10 spoonfuls of oil. Mix well. The consistency should be like wet sand. 

Add in five or six good size pinches of lemon zest.  Mix well.

Add in four spoonfuls of lemon juice. Add in the lemon essential oil, about a dozen drops.

Mix well.  The scrub should be wet but not too wet. It should be like wet sand and be able to pack into a ball if you press it together. If it's too wet, add more sugar. If it's too dry, add more oil by the spoonful or add in more lemon juice.

When it's just right, scoop it into the jar. Add a pinch of zest to the top, then tighten the lid.

We added little flower stickers to the tops of our lids.

The girls wrote their teachers' names on tags, then wrote "I will miss you!" on the backs. So sweet.

I added a tag with the ingredients, tied a bow and voila, done!  So cute!

To use the scrub: rub into skin, then rinse off completely. The almond oil leaves my skin super soft! I like using it on my hands and feet. Be sure to tighten the lid on the scrub when not in use. If you keep it in the bath, make sure to not get any water in the container. The scrub will last for a couple weeks. If it starts to get funky stinky, throw it out and make some more! 

To Be Called Mommy, the final post ... Post Ten

This is the final wrap up post of my series of posts about how I became a Mommy. To read the entire series click here. I also added a cute little photo to the right side of my blog that links to all of the posts.

I had the idea for this series at around 10 a.m. two Monday's ago. My email to Amber was this, "Hi you there today? I’ve been kicking around an idea about something ……" Her response, "I'm here, idea away ..." My response, "I was thinking, since Sunday was Mother’s Day, about writing a series of blog entries about how I came to be a mother. But YOU are a huge integral part of that story. I want to write about our story. Maybe writing about it briefly on my blog would be a good start. I’d want your help though. To write it together in a sense that you could add in some stuff about your experience with us with IVF."  Her response, "I would love for our story to be told. I really think it could help people. I think there are so many different aspects to our story that make it valuable to other women and families in our situation." And so it began. I had my first post drafted up that evening. I sent it to Amber, she read through it, I posted it. That's how the next two weeks went by. We had a rough outline of how we wanted to write each post, and it changed as different topics came to mind. What started as a vague idea turned into a nine-post series.

What was amazing to both of us was how easy it all came out. I didn't have everything in my head at the time I had the idea to write this series. But once I started writing, it just flowed. My posts were long and rambling at times, but I didn't overly edit them. The story took a while to come out fully. I'd send my posts to Amber to read and Mike would read them too. They both added their own thoughts. Amber wrote posts for her own blog. Things were tweaked but nothing was censored. I wanted to be as transparent in my emotions and when I write, I sometimes ramble. Some things came out as stream-of-consciousness and I was okay with that.

I'm happy we did this series. I hope it sparked something. I hope that other young women with POF read my story and know that great things are possible. I hope a couple going through IVF using a donor could read this story and feel hope. I hope this story was a positive thing to do. I know it was positive for me and for Mike and for Amber. It was awesome writing it all down. Amber and I were amazed at how similar our thoughts were on things, even things that we didn't talk about regularly. Amber wrote her thoughts about this series, click here to read her blog post.

Mike adds …
We have shared these stories the past weeks as we reflected on the story of IVF. Honestly, it probably has taken six years to now finally tell the story because it was such a powerful time. We had twins, we got them off to a great start. Both the girls are absolutely excelling at school, creatively and are healthy and happy. Wendy and I can now look back and stand in awe at greatness of it all. We are thankful for everything that we have. Each day, the girls bring us so much joy.

{Back to Wendy ...}
Some of these posts were hard to write, but they were worth it. I struggled with the post about POF and explaining what that was and my emotions about it because some of those emotions are still raw for me. We were a little nervous hitting the publish button on the post revealing that Amber was our donor. Both Amber and I struggled with the posts about when the girls were born and about their early years. I found it hard to put into words what I thought at the time, what I still think about it. Amber and I don't talk a lot about the girls looking like her or acting like her. I had a hard time writing it out and she did too. As I was writing the post I sent Amber an email that said, "This post is the hardest to write! I don't know why." and she replied, "OMG! This is how I started my post: Of all the posts I've written about how my godchildren were born, this has been the hardest to actually write. I'm not even joking."  I wrapped up my post, sent it to her, and she sent me hers. I was floored at how eerily similar they both were. We were thinking the same exact things. To me personally, those two posts, my post here and her post here, were the best ones in this series because they are echoes of each other, echoes of what Amber and I both think and feel and really truly a testament to why this whole thing worked for us, why Amber and me paired through IVF just worked.

Thank you for reading our story and thank you for leaving comments on the posts. They helped me, especially at the beginning when I was nervous about the POF side of the tale. The comments of support were invaluable to me and kept me going with the story. 

Amber helped to create happiness in my life. My kids are my heart, they are my life. They bring so much joy daily to our lives. We laugh every single day. We've had countless happy moments.

The following videos are just a small sampling of our happiness as evidenced through the girls smiles and giggles. Disclaimer: the first video is 15 minutes long!! And this is the cut-down version! The second video is most recent video of the girls and some funny outtakes.

House progress!

House progress!  Last week we visited the new 'hood.  

The foundation was done:

Ooo lala - front of the house.

Side view - the little windows are basement windows.

Same side, slightly different view.

On the right is the garage.

It was MUDDY when we were there. This was my fantastic look: capris and knee-high boots. Classy!

When we visited yesterday, there was WOOD! Wood = progress, hooray! And bonus, no mud!  So we could actually walk around.

Floor joists; looking into the basement.

Awwww, cute!  They're standing in what will be the garage.

A meeting of the minds!  I don't know what they were all looking at.  

The house is about two weeks behind because of the wet weather we've been having. It's supposed to rain every single day this upcoming week too, so it'll probably be farther behind. If only it would stop raining until the roof is up!  If they can get work done between the raindrops the framing should be finished this week.

To Be Called Mommy, Part Nine

This is the second to last post in a series of posts about how I became a Mommy. To get caught up on the previous posts, click here.

In my last post Mike and I talked about how annoying it is when someone asks us where Lydia got her red hair, because one, it's not their business, even though we know they're just being curious and being conversational, but two, Lydia got her red hair from her egg donor, Amber, and that's not a fact that we share with random strangers in the grocery store.

We know there will come a point where we have to explain Amber's role in their lives. We're not there yet.

The girls know Amber as my friend Amber and as Auntie Amber and as their Godmother. Amber sends them Christmas presents and birthday presents and a random bunch of stickers and they just eat that up. Because we live four hours away from each other, we don't see Amber as much as I'd like. We're both busy with our own lives and raising kids and having full time jobs. It's hard to make time on our busy-as-it-is weekends to plan a road trip to see one another. We do manage about once or twice a year to see each other though and that keeps us going, plus we know just about everything about each other's lives through our emails shared and blogs read.

{Mike adds …}
I like knowing that Amber is and always will be a part of our lives. That was a big deal for me. We have a bond that cannot ever be taken away. I know we could have never had this relationship with an anonymous egg donor. Having Amber as a part of our story is truly unique and special. I was not comfortable with the life-long questions we might have gotten had we used a random, anonymous egg donor. Eventually, we will tell the girls about Amber's role in their lives. But, I really feel like they will already know the love from Amber and that Mommy and Daddy picked her to be their Godmother for a most excellent reason.

{Back to Wendy ...}
I think what makes our situation work is the fact that we don't live in the same town. Amber has her own family. We are our own family. We're mixed through IVF but we're separate families. If we did see each other all the time I don't know if it would get weird or not. I wish I saw Amber a few more times a year, but I think if we hung out all the time, if our kids hung out together all the time, that our friendship and the fact that she donated eggs to us? that might not be as comfortable as it is now. And this isn't a bad thing ... it's just what works for us. There are women who use their sister as an egg donor ... I couldn't see that working for me personally, because if I were the recipient of the donated eggs, whenever I'd be around my sister I wouldn't like seeing the similarities between my children and my sister so frequently. It's very nice now that I can see the similarities in my children to Amber in that I know Amber's a part of them, but I'm sure there's things about the girls that are strikingly similar to Amber that I don't pick up on, because I haven't been around Amber for long periods of time for about seven or more years. The girls are a part of Amber and that's not something that we ever forget, but, at the same time, the girls are themselves and their ours and we're living our lives and raising them to be our children.

{Amber adds ...}
While writing these blog posts, Wendy and I learned a few things about the process. A few things we didn't share with each other as we were going through it. One of them was how we felt about the physical distance between us. I've said before that I didn't think much about my offer to donate my eggs to Wendy and Mike, but if we were neighbors, or if we lived in the same city even, I might have hesitated. Wendy and I are close. We e-mail and/or text daily - often several times a day. It's awesome when we do get together because it's so effortless. We have literally continued conversations in person that were started online. But if I saw her or the girls daily, it might be weird. Or hard, even. This way, it's not. I'd love to see Wendy and the girls more often. There's definitely a happy medium between once or twice a year and weekly. But I can't help but thinking the distance was a good thing.

{Back to Wendy:}
We're not sure when the time will come to tell the girls about Amber. They're too young right now at age 6. They wouldn't know what to do with the information, and I wouldn't want them to tell their friends at school right now because they wouldn't understand either. I want the girls to know about Amber when they can reflect about it themselves. They know Amber is special to our family, but they don't know exactly why. Amber will always be a part of our family, whether we see her once a year or six times a year.

Amber has a cutie of her own, Billy. Technically, the girls are half sisters to Billy. I don't plan to make that association for the girls. If they ask questions about Billy, then yes, I will offer them that information and explain that yes, technically, they are half siblings. If when they're older they want to spend more time with Amber and Billy, then we will surely allow them to do so. If when they're teenagers and they hate me for not letting them wear bright blue eyeshadow and they want to run away to Amber's house, then fine, they can do that, as long as she doesn't mind them being there and as long as they come back. I expect some teenage angst about egg donation. I hope it doesn't happen, but I expect it will. We'll just have to deal with it if/when it does.

Just like we get the questions about who's older or where did Lydia get her red hair, we get asked a lot if we're going to have any more children. Honestly, up until a month ago, we would have firmly said no. We're more than happy with our two sweeties. There's two of them and two of us. Things are great in our family life: we've both got great jobs, we're building a new house, the girls are almost finished with kindergarten. Life for the P family is pretty darn excellent. About a month ago though, I started getting that maternal pull, that maternal itch. It hasn't gone away. Mike and I have talked about it. We don't want to do IVF again. We feel strongly that we did IVF once, and it worked once and it worked perfectly once. We don't want to press our luck again. IVF is very expensive and we had to finance it and it took many years to pay off. Of course that expense was worth it the first time, but, we don't want to have to finance it again and then have the danger of it not working. Believe it or not, well, you probably would believe it now that you know how generous Amber is ... Amber has always said that if we wanted to do IVF again, that she would donate her eggs again. We're just not interested in going through that process again though. If we did do it again of course we'd take Amber up on her offer. But, IVF is so emotionally draining and all-encompassing. When we were going through IVF that is ALL that we thought about. We don't think it would be fair to the girls to have us so focused on doing IVF and not completely focused on them.

Also, we don't want twins again! No way. THAT would seem incredibly unfair to the girls and almost, in a way, exploitative of them. And with IVF there would be the chance of having multiples again. I mentioned selective reduction in a previous post. I don't think I could selectively reduce a twin pregnancy down to a singleton, if we did do IVF again. I think that would be incredibly difficult. Even though I wouldn't want another set of twins, I wouldn't be able to reduce down to one.

So, if we did decide to have another child, we'd adopt. Adoption is a strong possibility. It's something we wanted to do before we did IVF. We weren't happy with the process and the trainings we'd have to go through, but we've changed our minds about that. I could stand to go through trainings now. I could stand to go through a series of tests to prove that we could parent another child. And, we'd want to adopt a special needs child. We feel our lives and the girls lives would be enriched with a special child added to our family. But no decisions have been made. We'd be perfectly happy not having any more children, and we'd be perfectly happy having more children. We kind of just expect to know when it's right if we decide to adopt or not. When the decision comes to us, it will come to us and we can only hope that if we do decide to adopt a child, that we can add to our family with such ease and perfection as we did with IVF.

To Be Called Mommy, Part Eight

This is the eighth post in a series of posts about how I became a Mommy. To see the previous posts, click here.

This post is about how our egg donor, Amber, became a Mommy - after dealing with her own infertility. Read all about it on her blog.

A decade of marriage

Ten years ago today, I married my Mikey. I can't believe we've been married 10 years. It doesn't feel like 10 years, yet, we've shared so many awesome memories over the years. Happy Anniversary my love. Here's to many many more decades together.

To Be Called Mommy, Part Seven

This is the seventh post in a series of posts about how I became a Mommy. To see the previous posts, click here.

As I mentioned in my previous post, after the IVF doctor told us we were having twins (TWINS OMG!) I was released to an obstetrician for my prenatal care. My pregnancy was pretty normal. I was considered at a higher risk because I was having twins, but I didn't have many complications. Since we found out very early into my pregnancy that we were having twins we had a lot of time to adjust to it. We had time to stock up on supplies and clothes and toys. We got two of everything! 

We were most anxious to find out the genders of the babies. We wanted to find out because we had planning to do. We wanted to know so we could figure out what to name the babies. I wanted to know so I could begin buying color specific things, of course! I wanted to get pink things if we were having girls or blue things if we were having boys. Going into the ultrasound appointment to find out the gender, I had an inkling that I was having one of each. I don't know why I thought that, just did. But nope, two girls! Mike and I were thrilled. We made jokes about Daddy being the only guy, about Daddy spoiling all of his girls, and I had visions of dress up parties and pink poofs and ahhhh, all sorts of girlie goodness. I was so thrilled.

We had some names picked out for each gender but only one for each gender. So we had to put on our thinking caps. It didn't take long at all - our ultrasound appointment was in the afternoon and by the time we went to bed that evening, we had the names finalized. Twin A was going to be Lydia May. Lydia because I just love that name, Lydia because there is a distant Aunt on Mike's side who shares that name, and Lydia because of Beetlejuice (I'm serious!) and May because my middle name is Kay and it rhymes and flows, and May because my favorite Aunt's middle name is May, plus we were married in May!  Also, May is the name of one of Mike's favorite horror movies; that was more of an afterthought, but he likes to make the connection. Twin B was going to be Arlene Elizabeth because my mom's mom's name was Arlene - she passed away when I was very young. Arlene is the name that we always had picked out for a girl, I had that name in my heart since way before I even got pregnant. Elizabeth is a family middle name - it's my mom's middle name and was a Grandma's name.

And, A for Arlene and L for Lydia? Well that just so happens to be Amber's initials, A.L. 

I think any pregnant woman will tell you, once you find out the gender of the baby you're carrying, and especially when you figure out what you want to name the baby, it all become uber real!  I didn't think it was possible to get more excited about having the babies, but, once we settled on their names, it was SUPER EXCITEMENT time!  I couldn't wait for them to be born. I couldn't wait to meet them. I couldn't wait to cuddle with them and call them by their names and introduce them to the world.

I didn't have many issues with my pregnancy. I did have pre-pre-eclampsia and was put on bed rest for awhile toward the end. Basically I didn't have pre-eclampsia, but the worry was that at any point, I could get it. I never had high blood pressure, but I had lots of swelling. I was put on bedrest so the swelling wouldn't get any worse. I have battle scars from the swelling! My horror story is that my legs and ankles were so swollen before I was put on bedrest, that once I was on bedrest for three days, all of that swelling traveled up and situated itself into my upper thighs and stayed there. It subsided a little, but not before causing some stretch marks and misshapen skin. Lovely!  It's still there today, even more lovely! (not!) (to be honest, I don't even care about it - it's a pregnancy related body change, I knew my body would change being pregnant, so I'm OK with it!) (no more shorty shorts but I don't wear shorty shorts anyway, so it's all good!)

My due date for the girls was in late October. October babies, YAAAAY!  October babies!! {We didn't plan on that happening - it's just how it happened. We had the IVF procedure in early February. It worked out perfectly!} Once I was put on bedrest I had weekly doctor's appointments. The doctor gave me the option of waiting until the babies were ready to come out or to schedule a c-section. One of the twins was head down and one was head up. The doctor said that both babies might naturally go into the head down position on their own, but it was unlikely because they were running out of room in there. If I did deliver vaginally he could turn the other baby to be head down after the first one was born. We decided to not schedule a c-section and just to see what happens. I fully intended on having the girls naturally - not naturally as in without pain medication - but naturally as far as they came when they came. As we neared the end of September the doctor was getting more and more concerned about my swelling and was warning me he may have to schedule a c-section for me sooner rather than later. My goal was to have OCTOBER babies - so I kept those babies in there as long as I could. On September 30, the doctor called me and said that my bloodwork came back and was concerning him a little, so he wanted to induce me that next day. I had made it to October, I was fine with that!

I went into the hospital on October 1 and had the girls on October 2. I was at 37 weeks at that point, which for twins is considered full term. The doctor wanted to make doubly sure the girls were as healthy as they were going to be so when I was admitted to the hospital I was given a shot of steroids. We joke now that Lydia got all of the steroids because she's always been bigger than Arlene. I was induced and still planning on having the girls vaginally. That changed some bazillion hours into labor - really it wasn't a million hours but it felt like it!  The girls just weren't going to come out that way. So I ended up having a c-section.

I was really doped up during the girls' birth. I was given medicine to induce labor and also medicine to combat pre-eclampsia. I was loopy, very loopy. I was so so so so so so so so so so so so so SO SO SO excited to just HAVE the girls and get them and hold them that it was all honestly a blur. It was such a loopy blur. I remember being in the operating room and feeling the doctor's pull the girls out. The girls were born a minute apart on October 2, 2004. The greatest day!  The GREATEST!!

The first words out of my mouth when I saw first born Baby A, Lydia, were: "She looks just like Amber!"  And she did. Same coloring, same hair color. She looked just like Amber. Baby B, little peanut Arlene, really didn't look like anyone! 

Let's back up a little. Going into this, going into donor egg IVF, I knew the girls wouldn't look like me. I was OK with that. As I had discussed in my previous posts, we had originally gone into IVF with an anonymous donor plan. When plans were made for Amber to be our donor, I was more than OK with that, because I would know WHO the girls looked like. Amber didn't really look a lot like me, but that was OK because I knew they'd look like her. And she's a cutie!  Mind you, I was doped up and loopy, but when I saw Lydia, I was surprised at how much she did look like Amber. It wasn't a bad surprise, just a surprise.

When the girls were finally put into my arms once we were all back in my hospital room, it was such an awe-inspiring moment. Here I was, looking at these two little beings. Holding them, these little beings that I wanted so desperately bad. Little sweeties we tried so so hard to get. And here they were. They were mine and not mine, all at the same time. They were mine. Of course they were mine, but they were also a part of someone else. I was slightly scared. What if the "Who does she look like more, you or your husband?" questions started coming at me? How would I answer? These two girls didn't really look like me. While I was OK with that thought while I was pregnant, now that they're here, now that I'm looking at them, I'm kind of afraid of what other people will think. I've sort of faked it for nine months. Now, it's kind of obvious that they're not mine.
Then, the nurses suggested the babies and I have skin-to-skin contact. The girls were placed on my chest, and we all snuggled. Snap. It clicked. These girls might not have my DNA. They might not have my green eyes. They might not have my brown hair. But they have been mine since the minute we decided to do IVF with a donor. They grew in my heart and in my womb for nine months. They know my voice, they know my sighs, they know my movements and my mannerisms. My blood, my nutrients, my love sustained them for nine months. They might not be biologically mine, but they were mine in my heart. And they don't know any different. I'm their mommy. That's the mentality I had from that point forward. Because of the great gift of science and technology and the great gift of egg donation, I was able to be pregnant. Now, I'm a mommy to two little miracle babies.

Click here to read our egg donor Amber's blog post today about about the girls' birth.


**********************************************************
My girls, my girls!  They are six and a half now!  I'm amazed at how quickly time has gone by. And here's something interesting:  Lydia, who looked just like Amber when she was born?  Became a spitting image of her Daddy. She's her Daddy's girl, no question about it. She looks just like him and acts just like him. Arlene resembles Amber! 

As the girls have gotten older I've thought a lot about nature vs. nuture. By nature's sake, the girls don't have my DNA, they have Amber and Mike's. I've always been interested in seeing how much they will resemble me and my actions, and Mike and his actions, because of the way they are raised vs. what makes up their DNA. What will they be like as they grow up? Who will they look like? As I said, Lydia is all her Daddy. She's a loving, super loving huggy little girl. She aims to please and wants to please. She's the first to help, the first to earn her allowance for doing good deeds. She's super smart and friendly. She's a bit shy at school but she's bold at home. She's emotional and cries easily, but she also is the happiest when she's happy. She hums happiness in the mornings, has a quick wit and picks up on things lightening quick. I don't see much of Amber in Lydia. Apart from when she was first born, I don't pick up on Amber-isms with Lydia. Lydia's her Daddy, and she's herself, she's Lydia May.

When they were about three months old, I was taking photos of the girls for our Christmas cards. Arlene was making these expressions that looked just like Amber. For the first time I was seeing Amber in Arlene. Arlene looks like a mixture of her Daddy and Amber ... mostly she's her own person, her own little self. But I do see Amber in her. Arlene ACTS just like me. It's really cute and really hilarious. Arlene is artistic, she's crafty. The kid can draw really, really well. She constructs things out of her imagination that are so elaborate and so intelligent. She has a care-free personality - not a whole lot bothers her but when something does bother her, it bothers her. That's both me and Amber. She has my "someone else'll take care of that for me" attitude around the house, but we can both blame our over-achieving Lydia and Mike on that one. They just jump to take care of stuff first, so we just umm, sit by and let them. Hah!  Arlene has adopted some of my sayings and the way that I say things. I love it - it cracks me up.

{Mike says ...}
One thing that does bother me are ladies at the grocery store. It never fails, to this day, one of these lines, it’s either “How much older are you?” referring to Lydia being a bit taller then my little Arlene. Or, the real snapper “where does she get her red hair?” referring to Lydia’s gorgeous red hair - passed on from Amber. Wendy and I know this is typical grocery store lady behavior, but it chaps us sometimes. Our answer to the first is ‘they’re twins, one's bigger….bag faster please.” Our answer to the second always varies. Sometimes it's, well, when Mike grows his beard out, it's red. Which, it is, that's the truth. Sometimes we mention a relative has red hair. Sometimes we just pass it off with a “yeah, isn’t she pretty.” Either way, we never say, “well, we used an egg donor to get pregnant and she had red hair….please bag faster.” While people mean well, there will never be a day when we tell everyone, let alone the grocery lady, that we did IVF with an egg donor, which is why Lydia has reddish hair. 

{Back to Wendy ...}
Apart from the random grocery store comment, for the most part people just assume the girls are genetically mine. People may know we did IVF but they would just assume it was done with my eggs. We did IVF when I worked at my old job, and my co-workers there know I did IVF. When I switched jobs the girls were 3 years old. My new co-workers questioned if twins ran in our families. I've never told anyone at my job that I did IVF. I have pictures of the girls in my office ... some people have made comments like "Lydia takes after her Daddy but I can't see you in either of them." I just agree and say, "Yup, Lydia looks just like her Daddy and Arlene looks like her grandma!" or "Yep, both of the girls take after their daddy, and I'm lucky because he's cute!" ... one woman actually said to me, "Are you sure those kids are yours because they look nothing like you!" ... my response was, "Of course they're mine."  People are just funny aren't they? It used to kind of upset me, but I try not to let it bother me now. People are going to say stupid things no matter what. I've seen kids that I know genetically belong to both of their parents and those kids look nothing like their parents at all. We just let people think what they want and aside from these series of blog posts, we don't and won't share with the general public how the girls came to be in their special way.

Above all though, the girls are themselves. They're Arlene and Lydia. They have parts of all of us plus parts of their grandparents and great-parents all mixed together. I'd say this to the concept of nature vs. nurture: Nature does play a part, but so does nurturing and the environment a kid grows up in. Lydia's more like her Daddy. Arlene's more like her Mommy. They're both like Amber. They're both like their Daddy. They're both like me. And let me tell you, Arlene looking like Amber? It is such a delight. It is *such* a delight. Because it's like I have my bestest friend Amber here with me all the time. Arlene doesn't look like Amber all the time ... only in certain instances when she'll make a face or laugh or tilt her head a certain way. And I'm the only one that can see it, because I'm the one in my family who knows Amber the best. My husband can't see it, my parents can't see it. But I can. I love that. I love it that it's my little happiness moment. It's like a flash of "hello there, hello! waves!" and it makes my heart swell. Because, sure, I'll admit it, while I love my little kids to death, there's many moments when my ears are splitting in half because of they are crying or complaining or whining or their room is so trashed that I step into Polly Pocket mansions and about break my toes, there's times when I'm fed up, tired, can't take anymore, when IS their bedtime?! Mommy needs a break ... in those moments do I ever regret havings them? Hell no. Those are the moments I wanted. But it's in those moments of both pure frustration, and the moments of such joy and pride, when I see bits of Amber in Arlene, when Lydia hugs me and gives me a tooth-less grin, when Arlene sits down to do a craft project and I'm amazed at her talent, when Lydia reads an entire book by herself - those are the moments when God is smiling down at me. This is what I wanted. All of it. And how lucky am I?  I got one kid who acts and looks like the love of my life. The other kid acts a lot like me mixed with expressions and characteristics of my bestest friend in the whole wide world. I won the jackpot.

To Be Called Mommy, Part Six

This is the sixth post in a series of posts about how I became a Mommy. Click here for the previous posts.

As we left my part of the story last time, my husband Mike and I had just accepted our friend Amber’s generous offer of being our egg donor. The time between when Amber made her egg donation offer to when I went through my IVF procedure was about five or six months. Amber had to be approved as an acceptable egg donor, which meant a lot of blood work and testing. Mike and I also had to go through blood work and testing and had to go through psychological testing as well. That's the only part of this process that I really didn't like. I know that testing is important, but it seemed, I don't know how to say this ... just sort of insulting. I guess my reason for thinking that is because we had already gone through so many hours of thinking about this and discussing it and going over and over and over it. My husband and I are mullers - we mull over everything, to the point of exhaustion. We can talk a topic to death. Of course we were ready to do IVF. Of course we were OK with it. We had already decided that. During the psychological testing, the doctor talked to Mike and I together. She asked us where I was mentally with all of this. I had to explain to her that I'd been prepping myself for this since I was 16 and given my POF diagnosis. I remember her telling me that my case was a bit unusual, because a lot of times women had to come to the decision to do IVF after they had years of trying to become pregnant unsuccessfully. I know that testing is probably beneficial to some couples, but for us, it just seemed a bit too much. I was glad when it was over. We were given the go ahead, we were in the right frame of mind to do IVF.

Because of my POF and because we were using an egg donor, there were some special steps that had to be taken in our IVF cycle, more so because Amber was four hours away. Basically, my body had to be readied to become pregnant. That meant I took hormones to build up my uterine lining, while Amber was taking hormone shots to produce more egg follicles. While her body was making eggs, by body was building up a good lining. That prep work took about three weeks before the actual IVF procedure. During that time Amber and I maintained constant contact through email. It was all going well. Amber was seeing a specialist in her town, and I was being monitored by the IVF doctor in my town. During that week of egg retrieval {which Amber wrote about on her blog} Amber stayed with Mike and I. We had a lot of fun and basically just hung out, waiting for her eggs to reach the perfect time to be ready. We had doctor's appointments interspersed throughout the week, but basically we just laid around watching TV and movies, shopped, and ate. I took an entire week off work. Mike worked around the doctor's appointments. Amber and I would wake up, decide what we wanted to do that day, and did it.

As Amber wrote about on her blog, we got word that her eggs were ready. She had to take a pill that would give her body the signal to release the follicles. She forgot to take the pill. I remember her telling me. I remember she was devastated. Totally devastated. But I remember myself being calm. I didn't flip out. Because I knew it would all be OK. I knew we'd just work past it. We had gotten this far in the process. It will be OK. And it was OK. She took the pill late, but it worked. I probably should have flipped out about her forgetting to take the pill because based on what the nurse was telling us, the cycle was heavily compromised and most likely would not work. But I didn't flip out, for a number of reasons. One, I knew in my heart it would just be OK. Two, Amber already felt really badly about it, and was made to feel worse by the mean nurse at the doctor's office. If I would have flipped out about it, it wouldn't have done any good. We just worked through it. She took the pill, and it all worked out.

Amber's egg retrieval day was a Friday. We went to the doctor together. Mike made his contribution of swimmers, Amber's eggs were retrieved. I was there as support for both of them. I didn't have any role other than keeping my uterine lining strong and intact, and being there for Mike and Amber. The five day gap between the retrieval and my procedure seemed really weird. Amber recovered at our house from the procedure and then she went back home. The closeness, the human nature of the process, seemed to leave with her. It was so great having her stay with us - we hung out just like we used to when we lived together in college. When she left, the whole thing became sort of impersonal and medical, which, up until that point, it wasn't. We were doing a medical procedure, yes, but because we had been talking so much leading up to her week of staying with us, and when she was with us we were together 24-7, once she left, it was like being reminded, oh yeah, um, my friend left but left her donated eggs here. The gravity of her gift, of the situation, hit me. And not in a bad way, don't let me be misleading. It wasn't a bad feeling, it was sort of just a feeling of reality. It wasn't college, it wasn't hang-out time, it was baby-making time, and our babies were being made in a lab.

My transfer appointment was scheduled on a Tuesday. We had to go into the doctor very early. A total of five embryos had developed. The doctor liked the size and progress of all five. He picked two and decided to transfer those two into my uterus. The procedure to do that was ridiculously easy. It felt wrong how easy it was. Amber had to be put under for her procedure, but for mine, it took all of 60 seconds, and then, I was done. I didn't need any drugs or sedatives. A little catheter-like instrument deposited the two little embryos and that was it. I felt no different.

And then the wait began. I was scared sick nervous. After the transfer we went home. I stayed in bed all day. I slept, I read, I watched movies, and my mind flew around in a million ba-zillion directions. What if the embryos fall out? What if I do something, drink or eat something that I'm not supposed to, and they don't stick? What if I lean wrong or stop too abruptly in the car and they fall out? What if this doesn't work? What if I get stressed and this doesn't work? What if we got this far and *I* cause this to fail? What if my body rejects the process and this ends badly?

For the first time, I was doubting myself, doubting this process. I had nothing but faith in Amber, in Mike, in the doctors. But now it was all up to me. My body up until this point hadn't had a good track record of working in this department! Why would it suddenly work now? I was filled with lots of doubt. Lots of worry. Lots of sickening worry. We had to wait two weeks to find out if I was pregnant. Two whole weeks. 14 days. 336 hours. I tried to remain stress free. But I couldn't. I was stressed, I was worried. And then I'd be even more stressed and worried because I knew I was stressed and worried and that being stressed and worried was probably harming the whole process!

I asked Mike about his thoughts about the waiting period. 

Here's what he had to say:
The wait was tough. Everything up to this point was stressful, but it felt like it was in our hands. This one was in God's hands. All that we could do with science and medicine was done. We had to see what He wanted to do. I really felt like it was going to happen. I never overly considered what a devastation it would have been if things did not take. For some strange reason though, I knew it would.

{Back to Wendy:}
After the transfer I had to begin getting shots of progesterone into my tooshie. It was horrible. The shots were thick and the needle was huge. Mike had to give me the shots each night at the same time. To this day, I cannot stand the smell of peach hand soap. We had a bottle of peach hand soap in our bathroom when I was getting the shots. Mike would soap his hands up before giving me the shot. The smell of peach hand soap to me means shots in the tooshie! Gaaah! Those shots hurt like mad. The progesterone was needed to sustain a pregnancy. I needed extra progesterone since my body didn't produce the pregnancy naturally. I knew I needed them, so I just got through it.

I had a doctor's appointment at the two week post-transfer mark. At that appointment my blood would be drawn to test for the pregnancy hormone. I was encouraged to NOT do a home pregnancy test before then. However, I did! At the 12 day mark, I did a test. AND IT WAS POSITIVE! I didn't want to be too excited, because perhaps it's a false positive? I did a test on the 13th day, and IT WAS POSITIVE! I did a test on the 14th day, AND IT WAS POSITIVE! I went to the doctor, had my blood drawn, and IT WAS POSITIVE!

The nurse told me my numbers were very, very good. I was definitely pregnant.

I WAS SO RELIEVED! I can't express my feelings of finding out for sure that I was pregnant. All of my feelings of self doubt were gone. My feelings of "of course this will work!" returned and from here on out, smooth sailing. I had always known it would work. It wasn't a total surprise that it did work, because even though I was scared it wouldn't work, I knew in my heart it was going to work. It was like the hardest part was over ... I can be pregnant, that I can do. It was still very scary, I was scared about losing the pregnancy, but, I knew that the hardest most difficult part was over. For the next nine months, I just had to sustain the pregnancy.

{Mike's thoughts:}
I was thrilled. To hear that we were pregnant and that all this was becoming a reality. But, we had to be reserved. I remember Wendy taking several at home tests. It was almost as if we could not really be certain. We questioned who we could tell. We wanted to shout it from the rooftops. At first we kept it to just family. Our parents were so excited. Wendy and I knew things would work out.

{Back to Wendy:}
We took is slow in who we told about the pregnancy. We told Amber, of course. I asked Amber what she thought when I told her that it worked, that I was pregnant.

{These are her thoughts …}
Hearing that Wendy and Mike were pregnant was one of the strangest experiences I've ever gone through. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. Wendy talks in this post about the human element and the medical element of this process. For me, up until the embryos were implanted, it was almost all medical. We had a great week leading up to my procedure. And the amount of e-mails and phone calls and visits with Wendy and Mike leading up to this point in the process brought us closer than a lot of people ever are. But I never thought about the future. I never thought that what we were doing wasn't going to work. But I never thought about it working either. I just didn't think about it. I went from day to day to day, doing all the things I could do to make my end of the bargain work out. In hindsight, I was very detached from everything that was going on.

But, the second, I mean the absolute second, I heard the news that Wendy and Mike were pregnant, I freaked out (in a good way!). I was crying and laughing and laughing and crying. Sometimes I did both at the same time. I couldn't believe it. I never let myself think this would work. I didn't think negatively, but I didn't just expect it to happen, either. I just didn't think about it. I was terrified of jinxing something.

Once the news came that Wendy was pregnant, all that jinxing business - for better or worse - was out the window. It was then that I knew everything was going to be fine. Wendy was going to be fine. Everyone and thing was going to be fine. Better than fine, really. It was going to be pretty awesome.

{Back to Wendy now …}
Read more of Amber's thoughts on her blog, here.

Amber was literally the first person we told about the positive pregnancy test. We told our parents, but we waited to tell everyone else until we had an ultrasound scheduled at six weeks. And boy, did we have some extra news! At that ultrasound, the doctor had news for us - not only was I pregnant, I was pregnant with twins. Two little heartbeats could be seen on the monitor. I remember thinking briefly "holy fecking shit!!" but then, my calm returned. My sense of "OK then, let's roll with it, it'll be good!" took over. Of course having twins was a surprise, but we knew going into IVF that it was a possibility. I wasn't hoping for twins going into it, I was just hoping for a baby. But we got two. Instant family! The doctor didn't seem to be as pleased. He didn't intend for me to have twins. He intended for me to get pregnant with one. He asked if we wanted to reduce the pregnancy down to one fetus. That's how he put it - "You have an option of reducing one fetus." NO. Definitely not. Let me back up ... going into IVF we were told that at least two embryos would be transferred. Based on the quality of the embryos, three could be transferred. Some doctors transfer even more than that. With IVF and assisted reproduction technologies come the question of selective reduction. Mike and I had talked about selective reduction. We had decided that if I were to become pregnant with triplets or more, than we we would reduce down to one or two. That's a tough decision to make, but it's one we made. That's the type of decision and the type of talk that people who have problems with IVF and assisted reproduction latch on to. But we knew going into it that we would have to be OK with it. We knew we'd be OK with twins. We didn't expect twins, but we knew there was a chance. When the doctor asked if we wanted to reduce the fetuses down to one, there wasn't even a skip, the answer was no.

{Mike's thoughts:}
I was really excited at first to hear that we would have twins. Then I considered the financial aspects of things. At the time I was teaching, but not making much. I was working on going back to school and getting my master's degree. That of course was accelerated now. I had the feeling that I had to finish. I had to move on from the school I worked at. Working where I did was a great introduction to teaching, but it was also a war zone. I spent my first five years teaching students with behavioral disabilities. This meant coming home with ripped pants and bite marks on my arms from restraining kids and breaking up fights. I had to make a better life and a better salary for my soon to be family of four. I would end up continuing graduate school even through the birth of the twins. The whole time I was focused on finishing, getting my masters, then looking for a new, better paying job. I really feel like the pregnancy helped keep me focused. I went to work, then school - with a workman-like pace. Almost in concert with finishing my masters, I landed a job at one of the best public schools our area. I would indeed make more money and be in a much better environment professionally. My family would be provided for. That was my number one priority.

In all of this, having twins was alarming, but life charging. I feel it jump-started us from the desire to be pregnant to the reality of bettering ourselves for our children. At the time, we knew little about having twins. We knew our lives would change. We also knew we could handle it. We wanted this more than anything.

{Back to Wendy ...}
Once we digested the news of TWINS! the doctor gave me two great pieces of news: one, I was released out of his care and into the care of an obstetrician, and two, my body was producing enough progesterone on its own, thanks to the twins, so I didn't have to have the shots anymore! I was so ECSTATIC about that!

It was at this point, that I was just a typical pregnant person. I remember asking the IVF doctor at our last visit if I had to tell the obstetrician that I went through IVF. He said that he will tell the doctor in a letter, to explain the hormones I was on and the IVF process, but that no, I didn't have to talk about it. I don't recall every minute detail of the discussions and conversations we had with the doctors and with each other during this whole process, but I remember every single word of what my doctor said to me. Every. Single. Word. He said, "Who you choose to tell and how much you choose to tell them from this point forward is up to you and Mike. From this point forward, you are a pregnant young woman. You're just like any other pregnant young woman."

It was at that point that I was screaming VICTORY inside my head because it didn't matter how we got here. To other people, it didn't matter the WHO in how we got here. It didn't matter the HOW in how we got here. It didn't matter the WHY. All that mattered is that I was pregnant with twins. Two babies. Two precious little lives that were ours to take care of. It didn't matter how I got pregnant. I was pregnant. I was pregnant thanks to an amazing gift, one that we will never, ever, EVER forget, but one that honestly went into the back of our minds. It was there, just not in front of our faces, we weren't living it every day. Going forward, it was just Mike and I and our two babies. I was going to be a Mommy.

To Be Called Mommy, Part Five

This is the fifth post in a series of posts about how I became a Mommy.

•  Click here for the first post.
• Click here for the second post.
• Click here for the third post.
• Click here for the fourth post.

Click here for today's post - which is on my egg donor Amber's blog, Write Here Write Now.

Our story will continue this week both here on my blog and on her blog.

Thanks for reading! I wanted to provide my email address in case someone has questions about this process but doesn't want to leave a public comment here on my blog. You can email me. I decided to share our story of egg donation to educate and hopefully help others - I'm happy to respond to any comments/questions you may have.

The story will continue, promise!

Blogger was down today, so the continuation of my series of posts, To Be Called Mommy, will continue next week. I thought for a terrified few hours today that I LOST some of the posts, but they came back, shewww! 

Check back next week and thanks again for reading! 

To Be Called Mommy, Part Four

This is the fourth post in a series of posts about how I became a Mommy.

• Click here for the first post.
• Click here for the second post. 
• Click here for the third post.

Click here for today's post - which is on my egg donor's blog, Write Here Write Now. She also had written two previous posts, click here for her first one, and click here for her second one.

Thank you for reading our story.

To Be Called Mommy, Part Three

This is the third post in a series of posts about how I became a Mommy. Click here for the first post. Click here for the second post.

I'm not an overly sentimental person. Really, I'm not. You probably don't believe me having read this far into my story. And for reading it I say thank you. I know these posts are really long. But the story has a lot of details. The story takes awhile to get out and I need to pour over the details and hem and haw in my writing because that's what it takes to get it out. On the other hand, there really wasn't a lot of thought or planning that went into deciding to post this series. I literally decided this Monday morning, asked my good friend if it was OK, if it was time, and she said YES.

Anyway, I'm not really a sap. Sometimes I think that I should be a sap. Sometimes I think that I should be more emotional about our journey. But, it all just worked and it continues to work, because I'm just kinda a go-with-the-flow groovy-with-it type of person.  

There is a greater plan for me and that greater plan allowed me to meet two of my most favorite people. My husband came along at the perfect time in my life. There was no turning back, he was mine, I was his, let's ride off into the sunset together. Once we met our hearts were saying LET'S DO THIS and that was it. No questions. We were together. When I met my good friend and future egg donor it was the same way. Actually, now that I think about it, oooh, this is weird, I kind of met her the same way I met my husband!  Let me explain: after high school I had gone to a community college while still living at home. I wasn't really the happiest person at that community college because I wanted to be at the "real college" living in a dorm and yes, living away from my parents. Love to my parents and all but I wanted to get out, as every kid at that age does. I went to my classes at school and didn't really socialize with many people because I wasn't excited to be there. I do remember seeing a girl there that looked nice. I never talked to her. But I remember seeing her.

When I began at my "real" college, I saw the girl again. And I did the whole corny, "I know you from somewhere!" line on her, hah!  But I did, I knew her from my community college, and I was happy to see a recognizable face. As excited as I was to be at my "real" college I was also nervous as hell because I was away from home and I didn't hardly know anyone. This girl and I clicked. We became friends and it was easy. Like we were mean to be friends. Now, how that is similar to meeting my husband is that I had seen him previously in my life before he became a part of my life. While in college, when I worked at a thrift store he came in and saw me - I remember him being the really really really annoying flirty boy who kept asking me if I had any rope so he could tie his couch to his car. No, I didn't have any stupid rope, get away from me stupid annoying boy. I had a boyfriend at the time and wasn't interested in being hit on. That was that, for me, I never thought of that boy again, honestly. But when I saw him months and months later, he used that same corny line on me!  The "don't I know you from somewhere?" line!  Hah!  And yes, I did remember him. As the annoying couch boy!  Anyway, what I'm getting at, is that people are brought into my life for a reason, I believe that. I don't have a ton of friends on purpose. I'm choosy with who I surround myself with. I'm around people that I truly like, and honestly I don't like that many people. That's just the truth about me. I have a core group of people that I devote my energy to and I don't have flighty relationships with people that I only like a little. That's just me. But, these two folks, they were mine and I was destined to be with them. It was just meant to be. They are my longest standing relationships and my closest relationships and they both started out with that super corny line. Ha!

Over the years my relationship with both Mike and my good friend and future egg donor grew and developed, almost concurrently. My friend and I, we had a lot of similarities. We were both in the journalism program at school. We liked the same type of music, well she liked country music and I couldn't stand it, but I didn't hold that against her. We dressed the same. We were alike in so many ways. We could talk and talk and talk about lots of stuff, all sorts of stuff. We moved in together and had a lot of college-y fun. Lots of drunken fun fun fun. It was awesome. I had a good good girl friend and a great great boyfriend. And she met her future husband! I remember the night she came home from work and told me that she met the coolest guy.

In a way we all grew up together and became adults together ... in our own way. The relationships were always separate, like we didn't all hang out together, but I hung out with my friend, and I hung out with my boyfriend. They knew of each other, they got along, of course, but it's not like they were really good friends, if that makes sense. Then, we all graduated college, Mike and I moved in together, my friend and her boyfriend moved in together, and Mike and I moved four hours away. I was starting my life with Mike, she started her life with her boyfriend. But our friendship was still there. We emailed all the time. All. The. Time. There were days at work when I'd get absolutely nothing done because we'd be emailing long emails back and forth and back and forth all day long. (That *still* happens!!) We didn't hang out as much because we were both working and building up our careers and starting our lives with our significant others but we were always close. We've always been close, in the way that I know what's going on with her life, although I don't see her regularly. I could tell her anything, and vice versa. We had some deep email conversations. We both can write, and write we did. She was my sounding board for a lot of stuff, relationships, working, you name it.

When Mike and I had decided that we wanted to have a child, she was part of that conversation. I shared with her our thoughts and our processes. We talked over email about the ins and outs of adoption and about IVF. Never once, before the day she said she'd be my egg donor, did I *ever* consider HER being our egg donor. To this day I can't explain why. I guess I just didn't think she'd want to do it? I don't know. I just never considered asking her. We always thought that we'd get an anonymous donor. We never thought about seeking out a donor because I didn't want to have to ask someone. How do you ask someone to give you EGGS?  Good god that's just not something you ask someone willy nilly. And I didn't want to ask someone to do it and then have them say no because I was worried that it would change a relationship. I never once thought that I'd know our donor.

Who is my egg donor, my good, good, special friend?  Her name is Amber. Amber whom many of you that read this circle of blogs know. She's it. My egg donor. And that's the first time that publicly, that has been shared.

My family knows about Amber, of course, and some good friends know our story but for the most part, it's been kept kind of a secret. Not a seeky-seeky secret, just, not something that either one of us share openly. It was always an unsaid plan - we wouldn't blab about what we were doing. We wouldn't tell people unless we knew we could trust them with that information and they wouldn't judge. There are a lot and I mean a LOT of people in my life who have no idea about Amber and her role in my life and I'm sure the same's with her in regards to me and my children.

How did we get here?  Well, let's start with her offer .... I remember going to the doctor for something or other and being frustrated because the doctor couldn't give me answers. We were on the waiting list for an egg donor. We didn't know how long we'd have to wait and I was getting depressed about it. I saved all of Amber and I's emails from when we began talking about IVF but they're packed into storage. I'll get them out sometime and add them to this story because I think the raw emotions of those conversations would be a good addition to this story. But I do distinctly remember how it happened. I remember going back and forth on email like Amber and I always did ... I was at work supposed to be working but instead, emailing her. I was talking about how frustrating it all is. How I just want a CHILD and I didn't want to have to go through all of this bullshit. I was tired of it. I was tired of it being so medical. I was tired of it being so hard. I was tired of it becoming more and more impossible. I was starting to second guess if I even wanted to go through with IVF. I didn't know if I could handle the wait anymore. The unknowing.

And then, Amber wrote to me, "I'll do it. I'll donate eggs for you."

Time stood still. I read her email, I backed away from my computer, and I went to the bathroom. I cried and cried.  I'm *not* a crier. But I cried. I felt like throwing up because I was all parts scared, happy, freaked out, nervous, really SCARED, and OH MY GOD all at the same time. I was a ball of incredibly overtaking emotions. I pulled myself together, and I went back to my computer. I didn't know what to say. My hands were poised over my keyboard. I didn't know what to type. For the first time in our friendship, I didn't know what to say to Amber. I couldn't write anything. I wanted to ask, "You're kidding right?" but I knew she wasn't kidding. I knew she wouldn't joke about it and I knew that she wouldn't offer it unless she was serious.

All at once, I got a sense of calm. And incredible sense of calm. I knew it was OK. I knew it would work. I knew it was meant to be. Just like meeting Amber was meant to be. Just like meeting Mike was meant to be. I met them both when I was meant to meet them. Amber just offered to donate her eggs to us and no, that's not weird, it's right. It's meant to be. And it'll work. We'll make it work.

I can't recall exactly what my response to Amber was ... I think I said that I had to go to the bathroom to cry and I was probably thanking her and then we just started talking details. Oh yeah, I guess I better tell Mike huh? I can say, honestly, that I knew he'd be OK with it and even if he wasn't, I'd tell him it's what I wanted, and he'd be OK with it. My emotions were so shredded at this point, the day Amber told me she'd be our egg donor ... I can't even remember how I told Mike about it. I can't recall it at all because I was still in shock.

I asked Mike to write his thoughts about Amber's offer to be our donor.

{This is what he said ....}
Wendy and I knew that IVF was the best option for us, but it was still scary. The biggest, most influential piece of IVF was the donor eggs. Honestly, I was never really keen on a random donor. I admit now that during our search for a donor I was at odds. I had a hard time putting up flyers at colleges. I drove around for weeks with flyers that Wendy had asked me to post up at Xavier. Not that I didn't want to put them up, but at the time it felt odd. It was not like we were posting for a babysitter or had a used Honda to sell.

Wendy brought up Amber. They had been talking and Amber said she would be willing to donate.  I remember then being completely at ease with things. I knew Amber too. Back in the college days when I was trying to swoon Wendy, I met her roommate, Amber. They had an awesome house. A real house.  Most college kids lived in a stuffy apartment or a bad condo unit. But this was a nice, real house. I remember them having me over and meeting Amber for the first time. I could tell that her and Wendy were friends for awhile and that I would have to fit into the picture.

It's funny how things work out. Wendy and I would probably be voted the least likely to find a quality IVF donor, let alone one that we knew and trusted. Neither of us had a slew of friends. But the friends we had were close ones. In hindsight this worked out great. I knew that Amber was not a fly in the wind friend.  She was a true friend and someone that would be in our lives forever.

Amber gave us the gift of life. I really feel like she was the perfect person for us. I know the decision of IVF had to be difficult. She never made us feel like it was difficult at all. She was a very strong force in the process of IVF.

{Back to Wendy now ...} 
I asked Amber to write why she wanted to do be an egg donor for us. She wrote a post on her own blog, http://writehwriten.blogspot.com/2011/05/big-unveil.html. Also, her thoughts are included here.

{This is what she said ...}
I wish I could say some earth-shattering, ground-breaking revelation led to my decision to donate my eggs to Wendy and Mike, but I can't. It sounds too simple, but I did it because I could. At that time in my life, several of my friends and family members had had problems conceiving children. We didn't talk details back then, but I knew people were having trouble. At one point, I coulda swore it was the water. I didn't know when or if I wanted to have children of my own; I wasn't in a place yet where it was time to make a decision. I tend to be pretty go-with-the-flowy. I did know, however, that I could help Wendy and Mike.

I say Wendy and Mike, but it wasn't until the process began that I thought much about Mike. That doesn't sound right at all, but you know what I mean. I knew him. I'd hung out with him. I thought he was a great guy. I knew he was right for Wendy and I knew he going to be a great dad. But I have to admit, I wasn't thinking a lot about him when I made the decision to give them my eggs. That might have been a defense mechanism. When you think about it, well, let's just say it might have been a defense mechanism. I was glad Wendy felt comfortable sharing her trials and tribulations about having children with me. I was glad I was there to listen and provide support. But that seemed weak. There I was, sitting in my cube, not working (thanks for calling me out on that, Wendy), with some of the necessary ingredients to make babies. I am not making light of this. I'm not. But it just wasn't a decision for me. Why wouldn't I do it? I believe I was put on this earth to do something with my life. To make a positive difference in any way I can. This was my chance. I'm not a religious person, but I am spiritual. I do believe in the universe and being a good person and helping others. Asking me why I donated my eggs is not the right question. I can't answer it. Unless you want to hear, 'why wouldn't I'? It is true, however, that being an egg donor, even for one of your best friends, is not for everyone. It's not easy. There were lots of appointments and tests and needles. A lot of people have now seen me naked. But, it wasn't hard either. Some appointments, some tests, some needles. How small a price when you consider the result.

{Back to Wendy now ...}
Once the initial shock of Amber's offer to donate her eggs to us died down, her and I began talking about the details. The details of the procedure, how it would work and what would have to be coordinated. We lived four hours apart so we had to work out some issues there. After the logistics were worked out, I began thinking about the reality of it. Amber would be our egg donor. Amber and I don't really look a like. She has red hair. I have brown hair. She has a light complexion, I tan very easily. We don't look the same. But I didn't care. Because we share a lot of the same personality traits. We aren't good friends for nothing, we're good friends because we're very similar and we get along. I wasn't worried about my kids not "looking like me" and instead looking like Amber, because I KNEW Amber. Who's to say if we had an anonymous donor, if that donor had green eyes like me and brown hair like me, who's to say that the children would come out looking like me?  I'd rather chance it that my kids would look like Amber, someone I knew, and I'd know that they'd have good insides because Amber is a good, solid person.

I said at the beginning of this post that maybe I should be *more* of a sap. Maybe I should have been way more emotional about this whole thing. I was initially flabbergasted over Amber's offer, but then it was just normal to me. We were doing it, she was our egg donor, it was going to work. But we never really fawned over each other. Amber knows how I feel about her. She knows she changed my life. She knows she's forever and ever a part of my heart and a part of our family. She knows that. We never had a hugely emotional hug love fest over this. And I think that's why it all worked out so great. I think if either one of us would have been a gushy mess about this that it wouldn't have worked. Because we would have been worried that the other person wasn't ready to do it. We would have been worried that the other person was too emotional about it. I was gushy on my own time, Amber was gushy on her own time. We were strong for each other. We were united in doing this, no questions asked. I remember one of my relatives said to me after I had the girls, "Well I sure hope you appreciate Amber's gift to you!" and I was like "Really? You're REALLY going to tell me that you think that I need to appreciate Amber's gift to me?  You really think I'm not appreciative?" Appreciation is not the right word. There are no words. And the point is, Amber knows how I feel about her donating eggs. And I know why she donated eggs for us. Because she wanted to.

I always knew it was meant to be and it would work. I carried that attitude with me from the minute Amber said she'd be our donor to when I gave birth to twins. It all worked out. There were issues, there were challenges, but it all worked out. We stayed the course.

In the next two days, Amber will be writing her own thoughts about being our egg donor on her own blog. I'll link to her posts so the story can continue on her blog. I'll be back here on my blog to continue the story. There's so much left to our story ... from the medical aspect of it, to the scary shots I had to take, to all of the drugs Amber had to take, to the actual procedure, to finding out I was pregnant, to finding out I was pregnant with TWINS to finding out I was having girls, to giving birth to the girls ... and the last six miraculously joyously HAPPY years of our lives, thanks to Amber's incredibly awesome selfless act.

To Be Called Mommy, Part Two

This is the second post in a series of posts about how I became a Mommy. Click here for the first post.

I'm *still* nervous about doing this series of posts, I'll have you know. Why I'm so nervous I guess is just the honesty of it. It's not a secret, but it's just not something I readily talk about. Yesterday's post was hard to write because I talked about POF. That's the hardest part. But now that's over. So let's move on. But first, thank you to my friends who've provided encouragement with comments on yesterday's post. I appreciate that more than you know. It helps to get all of this out knowing that people are rooting me along.

When I was in college, I met my husband, Mike. We clicked right away and knew that we'd get married. Just knew it. I made the decision to tell him relatively soon into our relationship about my POF, because it will alter his future, me having infertility. He didn't care. Not in the least. I remember, when we were talking more seriously about getting married that I asked him if he was sure it was OK that I couldn't easily get pregnant, and he told me that he wasn't marrying me to have kids, he was marrying me. Sure he'd like kids, but we'd work that out when we got to that point. Not only did that sentiment prove further that this is the dude I'm meant to marry, but it made me feel so much better about myself and about having POF. I was no longer worried about it. I knew he didn't care, and I had every confidence that we'd just deal with it together later. Key word - together. It was no longer just my cross to bear, I now had a partner in crime to help me through it.

And he's definitely helped me through lots of stuff related to infertility in the 10 years we've been married, believe me. I asked Mike to add to this part of the story. As I mentioned yesterday, there's a cast of characters in this story, it's not just all me. I asked Mike what he thought when I first told him about having POF and what he thought about it when we decided we were going to get married.

This is what he said:
Honestly, Wendy telling me about having POF was a blip on my radar. I was so consumed with her in college. From first seeing her at the Salvation Army thrift store, I was smitten. Even thinking back I can still recall the feeling of just being overwhelmed with her. I had to get to know her. I had to talk to her. I wanted to date her. That all might sound creepy, but this is all after I spent a few years being a bump on love’s log - drowning myself in sorrow about a bad past relationship. But when I saw Wendy, I was struck.

I say that the POF was a blip on my radar, not in a bad way, but I was just so happy to have her. Let it be told dear readers that I had to work pretty hard to swoon young Wendy Kay. She was dating another guy at the time I first saw her. Can’t plan love I guess. It took me a few weeks to even get her to give me a chance. When she finally broke up with him and we began dating … it was just as I imagined, bliss. One of those times in your life where you truly seek someone out. I found myself longing for times when I would see her. We were failing in love and it was the time of our lives.

When she told me about the POF, I was already in love and I wanted to marry her. Not to be facetious, but she could have told me just about anything and it wouldn’t have changed our intentions. I remember talking about how we would just cross the kid bridge later. We never discussed it too much because it was honestly never a big deal. But, I could tell it was an issue for her. Not so much in the kids department as in the 'I’m a girl and have had to deal with this for years already' department. Like I said, I fell so hard for Wendy that to me, the POF was not an issue.

{Back to Wendy now ....}
Having that level of acceptance from Mike made it easier for me to accept having POF and dealing with infertility. Truly, I just didn't care about POF because he didn't care. It wasn't on my radar for a number of years. We got engaged, we graduated college, we moved to a new city. Things were awesome ... we didn't want to have kids right away, so POF wasn't on the radar. At all.

It cropped up ever so briefly when we were planning our wedding. I didn't want our preacher to say anything in our marriage ceremony about children, because we weren't entirely sure if children would happen. I remember talking to him about it during our marriage counseling sessions. We didn't want him to insert "children" into our vows, because first and foremost this is our marriage. While we wanted to have children, we didn't want to be reminded during our wedding ceremony that they might not come along. The preacher was totally supportive of that. We explained to him briefly that I would have a lot of trouble getting pregnant and he said that was fine and that was the end of it. Our wedding ceremony didn't mention children.

So, fast forward about three years. My husband and I both have good, stable jobs. We have a house, we're getting the itch. Let's talk about children. Let's see what's possible. We decided that I'd go to a specialist, just to make doubly sure that the diagnosis I got at age 16 was indeed correct. We'd explore that first, before we talked about any other method. I got all of my records from my old doctor and was very hopeful about seeing a new specialist. I have to admit that I was hopeful that my original diagnosis was wrong. I was hopeful that I could take some magic pill and be fixed. I was crushed when I was told that the diagnosis of POF was accurate. I think I was more crushed than I should have been because I had pushed POF back to the waaaay back of my mind for so long. I had ignored it. I had hoped it had just gone away. But it didn't.

I was sad for awhile because I wanted to just have children the easy way - no complications. Just make a decision, OK let's have kids now! Have relations (badabing!) and then presto change-o, I'm pregnant, yay, that was EASY! I hated seeing my friends and family get pregnant so easily, almost carelessly. It was hurtful to me because that's what I wanted, but I couldn't have it. I had known all along that it would be difficult, almost impossible, but I never really put myself into the moment of actually wanting it and being able to have it right now. I was suddenly in the moment where we wanted to have kids, and suddenly remembering, oohhh yeah, POF. Awesome. (Not.)

The specialist told me I had three options: just wait and see if my body does something on it's own and I get pregnant. The chances of that happening? 0.05%. Awesome. (Not.) The other option? Adoption. The other option? Doing IVF with donor eggs.

Option number one, seeing if something would just happen - wasn't an option for us.

Option number two, adoption - was an option and one that we got excited about. My husband and I both currently work in fields that support people with developmental disabilities. It's a field and a group of people that we've both been drawn to and it's a field we both excel at. When we considered adoption we considered special needs adoption. I began getting books, doing research on how we could adopt. All the while, I will tell you that I was still mourning the fact that we couldn't have our own biological children. The more I looked into adoption, I realized there were two ways we could go about doing it - we could pay money and go through a private adoption agency, or we could go through a public agency for less money. The public agencies required extensive background checks and extensive coursework into basically proving that we can parent. That stung and it halted our enthusiasm for adoption. We wanted to have kids, we knew we'd be good at it, we knew we'd be good parents. We didn't want to sit through a series of classes teaching us how to be parents. We just didn't. At the time, we thought it would be insulting to us as a couple. And we just didn't want to do it. We could have maybe gotten out of the more stricter classes had we pursued going through a private adoption agency, but we didn't like the price tag associated with that. We were very discouraged at the money involved with both options. We knew there were children out there waiting to be adopted and we knew that we would be great parents to those children. But we didn't want to pay a lot of money to prove it. It just wasn't for us at the time. I truly truly believe, today, as I'm typing this now, that we didn't pursue adoption because it wasn't in the plan for us at that time.

We were meant to do IVF, that third option the doctor had given me.

I had known since I was 16 that IVF with donor eggs would be an option for having children. The technology was around back then, and it was available with an even better success rate seven years ago when we began researching it. I did extensive, extensive research about IVF and I got really, really excited about it. I was more excited about it as first than Mike was.

Mike says ....
I believe IVF was always Wendy’s choice. Of course, I too wanted children. But Wendy wanted to carry the child. IVF was the one option that gave us the opportunity to have a child and allow Wendy to carry the child to term. This also seemed to be the time of most soul searching for us as a couple. I have described the 'smitten, star crossed lovers' stage. This would be the 'let’s become adults together' phase.

The conversations were never easy. Wendy and I are on the same page with most things and for most things we were. We both wanted kids. When we decided upon IVF, we both whole-heartedly agreed. But it was just the sensitive topics. Now was the time in our lives we had to address stuff. We had enough time to be all care-free-hot-to-trot-in love with each other. Now we had to talk about POF. Again, some things were never in debate. Did I care about POF? No. Did Wendy? Yes.

Did we both want kids? Yes.

Did we have options? Yes.

Repeat, did Wendy care about POF? YES. So, now was the time we had to tackle issues. Adoption, which we both always considered and still do. But adoption didn’t give Wendy a chance to carry the child. Neither one of us felt much like proving to an adoption agency that we were fit parents. I really felt at this point like POF was the biggest issue. We could get a child - we had two options, adoption or IVF. Wendy wanted to get pregnant but couldn't because of POF. Unless we did IVF. But frankly, IVF was scary. I knew nothing. Wendy will tell you, I’m a smart guy, but when I know nothing about something (like finances or IVF) - I throw it completely to her. I put my complete faith in her research.

For awhile, things were up in the air. As I said, Wendy did tons of research and I played possum. I never had moral or religious challenges to IVF- I just didn’t know what it took medically, or donor stuff, or any other medical aspects. I trusted Wendy to school me. Over a few months or a year, she did. We went over everything. Talked about every fatherly, motherly, moral, religious, medical, emotional facet of IVF. Like I said, these were real times of growth for us in our marriage. Take two kids (which is what we were when we met) and make them grow up trial by fire. The process of coming to terms with IVF is very personal to us in our marriage.

I’m sure no married couple can ever really isolate or describe to a reader the conversations about IVF or adoption. Any couple that has come to the decision to adopt or have children through IVF knows how much their marriage has been strengthened. Before the child even comes. The bond that the emotions and conversations bring is indescribable.

I recall even recently, a guy in the locker room talking about how he thinks his girlfriend might be pregnant. How he was thinking of asking her to marry him, but now he just will sooner. Other guys guffawed and added the old "shot-gun" wedding remarks. I kept quiet. I am not a bible thumper. Not one of those who 'judges someone on why they get married or divorced or have kids or not' types. But in reflecting here, I do feel sad for that guy. It is different. A couple that gets pregnant naturally is really blessed. But, I too feel blessed in the conversations Wendy and I were able to have. The strength in marriage that those conversations gave us. There is nothing shot gun about deciding upon IVF.

All I know is once we decided upon IVF, it hearkened me back to first falling in love with Wendy. Once it happened - I knew everything else would be okay. When we first decided upon IVF, we were still uncertain about the donor or medical aspects - but we both knew it would be okay. That we were okay with it. We wanted it. We wanted children and knew it could happen.

{Back to Wendy ...}
I was excited about IVF because we didn't have to go through parenting classes to prove we would be good parents. We had to go through a series of medical treatments and I'd get pregnant. It seemed easier than adoption. Plus the added benefit that I'd be able to experience a pregnancy. That was a big one for me. There was a high cost with IVF, but we were able to finance it. That made all the difference.

I remember being on such a one-track mind-frame once we settled upon the course that we would do IVF. I was so so very excited about it I could barely contain myself. It was what I wanted so badly. I was so ecstatic to go to our first appointment at the fertility clinic. There we learned about the donor egg program and how it worked. Basically, we'd have an egg donor that would go through the fertility treatments to make her ovaries produce a bunch of eggs. Those eggs would then be harvested from her, paired with Mike's sperm, and embryos would develop and be implanted into me. The success rate for our clinic was really good. So now, the question was, how would we find a donor? I don't have any sisters. My cousins are either too far away or too old or not a good fit.

The fertility clinic had an impressive egg donor program. There was a list of couples waiting to get donated eggs. The current wait was six months. The egg donor coordinator at the clinic suggested that we were on the waiting list we also actively try to recruit our own egg donor. She had told us that college women may be looking to help couples like us, plus get a little extra cash for doing so. We weren't totally sold on that, but thought we'd give it a shot if it meant we could do IVF faster. We made up posters and put them on college campuses. Our poster featured a crying kid and it said, "We want it all, the late nights and the crying" ... we tried to convey that we wanted to have kids because we wanted to have kids, not just a cuddly cute little baby, but a screaming crying little monster - bring it on, that's what we want.

We took a drive to a local college campus and I was too embarrassed to get out of the car to hang the posters up. I had suddenly started questioning if it was right for us to be doing this, to be almost like making a mockery out of it with our posters and soliciting for an egg donor this way. It felt a little wrong. It felt like the wrong way to be going about it. But, we hung the posters up anyway. Mike hung them up. And we waited. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

We got no response.

None.

I was getting sadder and sadder by the day. I wasn't confident that the egg donor list we were on at the clinic would move quickly. I knew it would be longer than six months. And the other thing - we weren't guaranteed to get a donor that we'd like or want, once our number came up. A donor would be willing to donate and would be paired with the first couple on the list, but if that couple wanted a brunette and this woman was blond, then she would be paired up with the next couple on the list and so on. I was terrified that when we finally reached the top of the list, that the only women who'd be willing to donate would be of a different race or just not what we were looking for. We weren't too particular on what we sought. Basically a white female with either brown or blond hair ... I had fears that black-haired Asian women would be coming to the clinic in droves and we'd be waiting for years for a donor.

I was getting defeated because I'm an inpatient person. I have the belief that things happen for a reason when they are supposed to happen, but I can't accept that fact until after I go through something and then I'm all, "OH! so THAT's why I had to wait so long for XYZ, because it wasn't my time yet - now it makes sense!" It's kinda like how it all went down with us selling our house. We *hated* being on the market for three years and all of the drama and heartache that came along with that. But, now that we sold our house and found literally the perfect situation where we're able to build a house for significantly less than we would have been able to six months ago, we know it was all done for a reason, along a greater plan. We didn't know it at the time, but we can see it now. With this pregnancy/baby business? With this business of wanting to have a baby? I wanted it to happen N-O-W and I couldn't understand why it wasn't happening.

But then.

Wouldn't you know, something DID happen, when it was supposed to happen. We were contacted by a donor. At the perfect time. The perfect donor.

I will talk about her in my next post ...