Last week, we ran a story asking whether you would donate your eggs to a friend (you can read that story here). The response was enormous, with advocates on both sides. A reader who had agreed to donate her eggs contacted us to tell her story. She offers her story here anonymously with the names changed to protect the privacy of everyone involved.
Before I begin my story I want to make a disclaimer that even after my experience I am not against egg donation. I think it is a wonderful gift to give, and I would do it again for a friend in need.
I met Cathy three years ago when our children were at kindergarten together. We soon became close friends, with our families spending a lot of time together, and things were great. Cathy confided in me about her fertility issues. Their son had been conceived via IVF, and she told me that whilst they were desperate for another child, she had crushingly been advised that her only hope for conceiving again was to use an egg donor. It seemed all hope was lost. She was ineligible to use anonymously donated eggs in Australia, and the cost of buying eggs from overseas was prohibitive. After doing a lot of research and some intensive soul searching, I offered to donate my own eggs to her.
It seemed so simple: I was still very young and had three beautiful children of my own, and my husband and I considered our family to be complete. I was confident in my ability to deliver, as my own children had been conceived so easily.
Later that year, the machine was kicked into motion with initial visits to the IVF clinic which involved blood tests and genetic testing for me to ensure I was an ideal candidate to donate my eggs. Everything came back looking perfect, and we were all set to go ahead. Cathy and I both started taking the contraceptive pill to synchronise our menstrual cycles in preparation for the donation and transfer. All that needed to be organised before the IVF cycle could be started was counselling with a specialised fertility counsellor, which is compulsory for couples undertaking IVF and/or egg donation in our State. I was quite anxious to get the counselling done and the cycle started, as I was due to start uni at the beginning of March, and wanted to do so with a clear head – but Cathy and her partner decided to take an overseas holiday first.
Watch the trailer for Ovum, a film about egg donation, below. Post continues after video.
As a result of this delay, I ended up having to do the cycle of daily injections and regular blood tests and pelvic ultrasounds during the first week of my course, so on top of already feeling like a fish out of water at university due to my age and having three small children, I was falling behind in my first week due to the exhaustive IVF cycle. Despite the pressure, I was more than happy to do it, and was so sad and disappointed for Cathy when the cycle surprisingly yielded only five eggs, three of which were fertilised, with only one embryo surviving to transfer. Sadly, it didn’t take.
Cathy was devastated, and I felt like I had failed her. I’ve suffered from depression for my entire adult life, and with the pressure of university, kids, the failed egg donation, and most likely the influx of hormones I had been injecting, I fell into a very dark place, culminating in a (thankfully unsuccessful) suicide attempt which left me hospitalised.
I felt as though I was somehow to blame for the failure of the IVF and out of my irrational guilt I agreed to do another cycle. At the time though, my husband and I had begun to make plans to move interstate, due to several factors including work opportunities and to hopefully improve my mental health in a better climate. Cathy was using every opportunity to make me feel guilty for this, telling me that they couldn’t possibly afford to do another cycle before our projected moving date. I felt terrible and even offered to come back to our home town at my own expense when they were ready financially.
At the beginning of the second round I had to meet with the IVF specialist again. He grilled me about why I was going through it all again, and whether I was doing it because I felt pressured. He said he had to ask because it is highly unusual for a donor to go through the grueling process twice. When I relayed this information to Cathy later she scoffed, “Why? It’s just what people do!” as though it was nothing special.
Of course I felt pressured, but I knew that admitting it then would be the end of our friendship. I was feeling partially guilty that our plans to move away had put the pressure on them to get the second round underway, and partially annoyed that I was going out of my way to attend this appointment despite her saying that they couldn’t afford it again so soon, so I may have been wasting my time. I guess I had also hoped that moving away would be an ideal ‘out’ of this situation I felt I had no control over.
As the time approached to begin the cycle I became increasingly anxious that my mental state would deteriorate again the way it had the last time. I was genuinely afraid that I wouldn’t survive it this time. Cathy and her partner warned me not to tell the fertility counsellor about my mental health issues, as they were afraid it would stall or stop the donation. I started the injections feeling as though I didn’t have much choice, and wondering if I would still be here in two weeks.
By day three I was barely functioning and not coping at all, however when Cathy asked me how it was going and I told her honestly, she and her partner came over to my house to intimidate me into continuing. It struck me then that she wasn’t concerned in the least for my health or wellbeing, but rather for her own reputation. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to push me into doing this; it was that she didn’t want to be seen to be pushing me into it. In the end, they retrieved twelve eggs, eight of which were successfully fertilised. I imagine they were thrilled, although I never even heard so much as a ‘thank you’.
I found out later that Cathy had been backstabbing me the whole time I was donating. She had been complaining about how much they do for me, and how I’d never have been able to go to university if it weren’t for her helping us, cooking meals, and looking after our children. It was almost hard not to laugh at this, given I was the one regularly babysitting her child and cooking extra meals for them when I knew they were busy at work. The fact that she made out that it was the other way around truly makes me wonder if she suffers delusions, or if she is just a liar wanting to make herself seem like a good person. She was even angry that I had asked them to look after my children while I went to have a blood test to check my hormone levels for the IVF. It may be presumptuous of me, but if roles were reversed I would be bending over backwards to help my egg donor in any way while she was going through IVF on my behalf.
I was so upset that I didn’t know earlier that Cathy was saying these awful things, because I would have put a stop to the donation process right there. Unfortunately, fertilisation is the point of no return as far as the legal rights of the donor go. I could no longer legally stop them from using my eggs. To this day, I don’t know whether they went through with it or not. It’s possible that I don’t want to know. After that I went home and unfriended and blocked her from all social media accounts, effectively wiping her from my life. I haven’t spoken to her since, and I don’t think I could.
I must stress here that I didn’t want to put a stop to the IVF out of revenge. I just can’t bear to think of someone who clearly despises me so much carrying, giving birth to, and raising my biological child. Would she feel that hatred every time she looked at that child? Would the child grow up feeling that resentment? I knew, based on previous conversations and the mandatory counselling sessions that they had no intention of telling the child that he or she was conceived via egg donation. I wasn’t comfortable with this at the time, as studies show that children who are brought up knowing their donor origins fare better, however I reminded myself that it would be their decision, not mine. The fact that they intended to put their own pride before the well-being of their potential child should have set off alarm bells even before my first donation, but I think I dismissed those niggling doubts in favour of friendship. They do say hindsight is 20/20.
My experience makes me wonder if the laws that are currently in place regarding egg donation afford the donor enough protection from exploitation, and what more could be done. I’d love to hear from anyone in a similar situation.
*Names have been changed.
Would you donate you eggs? Let us know in the comments.
DEBRIEF DAILY