Tag Archives: egg retrieval

The year of living dangerously, or selfishly, or just under a general

My ovaries are sending Morse code, but I’m not sure to who. I guess to me, I’m the only one listening. I think they are saying they are ready – and the doctor agrees. So off to hospital I go again tomorrow for egg pick up. For someone who had never had an operation before – not even tonsils or appendicitis as a child – this year has been the year of anaesthesia. This will be the third time I’ve gone under, and weirdly I’m looking forward to it. Yeah that is weird! Because it’s really not the funnest thing on earth.

My intention is for at least six good eggs to be harvested, and six to be fertilised (do you hear that universe – SIX GOOD, HEALTHY, FERTILISED EGGS), so I have some to freeze. But of course, when the first lot are put back into their nine-month rental, they (well ONE) will attach and stick and grow into a fat, happy, healthy baby. (Do you hear that universe? A FAT, HAPPY, HEALTHY BABY).

That is my intenti0n, and if you, dear readers, can put that intention out there that would be be very helpful. Thanks.

Lots of caps there. More to come.

A few weeks ago, some obstetrician in Perth made comments in the media condemning “older” women who choose to have babies as “entirely self-centred”. He said, “It is selfish and self-centred of older women to have babies because they are not just babies – they are babies for a little while and they become people.” If you really want, you can read what he says here.

Gosh, who knew? I mean seriously, WHO FUCKING KNEW THAT?? Here I was labouring under the misapprehension that I would just have a cute little accessory that I could dress up in Prada booties until I tired of it (I can’t afford Prada booties for myself, but I would buy my little accessory only the best. I’m THAT selfish). Little did I know that – apparently – they grow up to be human beings who require unconditional  love, affection, food, a roof over their head, schooling, and that’s just for starters.

Funny, because my reasons for having a child are the complete opposite of selfish. In fact, my whole life until this point has pretty much been about me, and I am, quite frankly, a bit bored with it. I actually WANT to not be selfish. And I would have thought that having a child, at no matter what age, would be the most selfless thing a woman could ever do (I don’t leave men out of this, a man can want a child for completely selfless reasons too).

Apparently this bloke’s beef is that we would be burdening the child (who I have only just found out grows up to be an adult) with a geriatric parent. He does not mention men. Who I have already mentioned in an earlier post, are sometimes quite reluctant to come to the baby-making party, because they do not have quite the same biological time-bombs ticking away. They are not selfish apparently. They don’t seem to be even involved in the equation, if his comments are anything to go by.

For me, and for many, it was not a “choice” to be doing this at this late date (I refuse to call myself “older”!), it just happened. I didn’t – haven’t yet – met the man of my life. There are many reasons for this, only one of which is that I’m a fussy cow!

I presume it was in response to the aforementioned good doctor’s remarks that some other “expert” – the head of Monash IVF in fact (lots of quotation marks today as well) has been counselling women work “harder to find a partner or change their criteria for Mr Right… maybe you have to settle for Mr Not Too Bad.” Oh dear God, all I have to say to him is BUGGER RIGHT OFF.

Because that’s not selfish at all is it – I want a child, so any old guy will do. What should I have done – back in 2002 sitting in, I don’t know, The Light Brigade pub in Paddington (we used to go there a lot), say to my friends, “Right, the next bloke who walks into the bar is MINE, because I want to get knocked up.”

Don’t get me wrong, I have many, MANY times berated myself for being too fussy, not giving guys a chance, dismissing someone for the most spurious of reasons, etc, etc. But that’s me. My personality. Partly because I am unwilling to “settle”, partly because I am, or have been, terrified of commitment, partly because it takes a long time to get to know me and by the time I’m ready to show myself, the guy has lost interest. How much am I fucked up? Let me count the ways.

The point is, My Half-Right just doesn’t appeal to me – funny huh.

Perhaps old men should keep their mouths shut and stop judging women for their motives, of which they know nothing.



Filed under ART, IVF, pregnant over 40, relationships, Uncategorized

The first day of spring

And two little egglets have been fertilised and are multiplying in a test tube. Or whatever they multiply in. A petri dish? Anyway.

Early trip to St George Private Hospital yesterday, arrived about 7.45. Checked in, had my identity checked about 57 times, read my book, and finally got wheeled in to the theatre about 10.30am. The doctor said they would write the number of eggs they retrieved on my hand. Blackout. Aren’t general anaesthetics weird? Where do you go while they are spreading your legs, inserting a needle through your lady bits, and generally poking around with probes, ultrasounds and other such un-fun stuff? It’s not like being asleep, you are just … gone.

I came to I guess about 45 minutes later in the recovery ward. Groggy, tender and feeling delicate and a bit unsure as to who I was, the first thing I did was to check my hands. Nothing!

Aah! wha..? A nurse came by and checked my records. They got 11. Eleven! Seemed like a good number to me.

On my way home, the clinic called. Four of the 11 were suitable for fertilisation – the others were not quite mature enough. I was hoping for six.

Home, and treated myself with a tub of Sara Lee butterscotch and honeycomb icecream (yep, a whole tub), chocolate and the sofa.

This morning the clinic called – two of the four have made it past the judges, the other two have been voted off. 😦 Why? I was so hoping all four would pass muster but two just didn’t get on with the sperm, or the sperm didn’t get on with them. When I asked why, the girl in the lab said, “Humans just aren’t the best reproducers in the natural world.”

Still, it’s the first day of spring, when new life bursts forth. The sun is shining and my little egglets – I should call them embryos now – are growing strong and sturdy and tenacious.

In the book I am reading, the heroine has just discovered she is accidentally pregnant. It’s a sign!

And in my guided meditation through the Chopra Centre today, the mantra given was “Om vardhanam namah” which means  “I nourish the universe and the universe nourishes me”, which to me seems to fit with today and the next few days and months ahead.  Another sign!


Filed under ART, IVF, pregnant over 40, single mom by choice, single mum, sperm donor