lifeslurper

Rotten Eggs?

Being the farm bred gal I am, I know that chook eggs can be tested by simply being placed in a bowl of water. If they sit on the bottom they are fine. If they rise to the top they are no longer fresh. Why isn’t an equally uncomplicated test available for my own eggs?

Free range hens tend to lay their eggs in a multitude of hiding places around the farm yard. There is always a chance that these won’t be discovered until they are past their best. What is left of my eggs have largely remained hidden in my ovaries for 44 years. Very little is known about them, and no one seems to have a definitive view of the situation: fresh or not?

Questions over whether we will ultimately get to attempt pregnancy through the use of donor eggs adds a whole new dimension to this uncertain and never ending complex maze of confusion that is ART. The fact that simple information on the process of seeking and receiving donor eggs is hard to obtain only serves to ravel the issue even further.

So far there have been four IVF cycles. For a variety of reasons these were performed by three fertility specialists spread across three branches of the same fertility clinic. We are happy with our third specialist, young Dr Loverley and plan to stay with him. He gave us the by now mandatory spiel about donor eggs on our first meeting with him. This appears to be a direct consequence of my age. The previous two specialists also gave the donor egg flag a wave also, but all were happy to press on with my own eggs.

For the record Wobbles and Lifeslurper are more than happy to be the proud recipients of donor eggs. We have few difficulties with the idea. In Australia legislation is tight, and controls the rights of any children to later uncover the identities of the people responsible for donating the sperm or eggs which helped to create them. Our only questions are a result of not fully understanding the processes involved. Straightening out the situation is leading to further frustrations. This in turn creates further indecision in the whole ART process: are we doing the right thing ploughing on with our own eggs, or are we wasting time, energy, hope, and money when more direct routes to parenthood might be available through other means? No one seems to know. Our clinic has been of very little assistance.

After our initial appointment with Dr. Loverley I began to re-examine the donor egg possibilities. I have no friends in the correct age group. My sisters are all older. My nieces too young or too religious. Yet Dr Loverley spoke in terms of some compelling statistics, suggesting that pregnancy is achievable in 60% of older women with the use of donor eggs. That kind of percentage increasing our chances by a whooping 600 per cent. I am practical enough to not want IVF to be a part of my life for years to come. If donor eggs where to be a way of circumnavigating this process, I would take the opportunity with both hands and feet, starting at the earliest opportunity.

Our clinic allows women to continue IVF with their own eggs up until the age of 45. This age can be decreased according to the specialist’s opinion on results and how well the patient is coping. The clinic allows us to continue cycles up until the age of 51 or 53 (depending on which brochure you chose to believe) where donor eggs are used.

I had older parents. They started off as young parents, but as the time they got to me; their sixth child they were older parents – at least for those times. I am fully aware of the downsides of bringing children into the world at such late ages. I already grapple with the idea that if I were to miraculously fall pregnant tomorrow, that child would not arrive until the eve of my 45^th birthday. I certainly do not want to be looking at new parenthood at the age of 54. I want to be a parent and have a family with my beloved Wobbles, but even Lifeslurper has her limits.

When the professionals sprout the wisdom of an old boiler like me turning to donor eggs I am reminded of an old line from Scottish comedian Billy Connolly who once questioned the clarity of signs displayed on Queensland beaches stating Beware of jelly fish. Did they fall from the sky, or arrive by taxi he bemused. Fertility specialists seem to have an unfailing belief that donor eggs are easy to obtain in this country where Federal legislation prevents payment for eggs. Here donor eggs don’t fall from the sky, they must either come from a known donor (sister, friend, neighbour) or come from a short supply of altruistic donors found either through advertising (after intended recipients obtain permission from the government) or clinic based recruited donor programs.

Despite the opinions of the specialists, it took us a year to realise our clinic had a recruited donor program. Again some simple communications let us down. Excitedly we discussed the use of donor eggs as an option, and speculated on the waiting times and delays involved. On inquiring the next day directly to the clinic, we learnt that the program had temporarily been ceased some time earlier due to the length of the list. Foiled again! We had just crossed another of the many and varied psychological hurdles ART hurls at its participants only to find another block on this long road.

Only weeks after our enquiry we learnt that our clinic’s program had re-opened once more, and again we were late with the news. I few quick phone calls, a mini interview by the program co-ordinator and a letter from the specialist we were placed at Number 79 on the list, with dire warnings that they “never” get donors. Why offer the service, I grumbled to myself. “Expect it to take years” to get to the top of the list. I suppose it truly is a waiting list if it is something that we might be stuck on indefinitely with no hope of a positive outcome. How very like the rest of our ART story.

So much of ART seems to follow this constant ebb and flow of hopes found, followed up very quickly by hopes dashed. In this seemingly endless struggle to get on top of the endless information out there I recently decided to explore some other donor egg procurement options. And there are some, namely the importation of frozen eggs from overseas, with cycle treatment to take place outside of my home state (where legislation would never allow such a process.) Sounds easy at first, then further digging reveals that the freezing of eggs is viewed by many as experimental. The clinic offering this service give very low expectations on a successful outcome. The eggs have to spend an undisclosed amount of time in international quarantine, and the transportation is extremely complicated and risky over such a distance. For us it would mean repeated interstate stays and even more expenses on top. Egg importation makes the idea of ‘fertility tourism’ far more appealing. Yet this too would mean travelling overseas for treatment. I am sure many will question my perseverance, but I know my own limits. Accruing even more debt for some equally slim chances at positive results does not seem practical. The time and endurance required would also prove difficult to commit to.

Donor eggs like all other aspects of ART deserve close examination. At this stage my ignorance of the facts is too great to make any real decisions, so we intend to keep chipping away to see if we can find something more definite. As a matter of pragmatism over my age, donor eggs have to remain a serious consideration. Even as I lay in recovery after my last egg pick up and was delivered some very grim results I started discussing donor eggs with Dr. Loverley. His response was “…but we’re not at that stage yet….!”

If only it were possible for me to plop my ovaries out on the kitchen table and test them with the old bowl of water method. If they floated we would know that our only option lay in seeking a donor. If they sank we would know there was still the possibility of life in my old eggs yet.

ART is made all the more difficult for fact that there is rarely ever a clear path to follow.