At the tender age of 46, I conceived the future 'sea monkey' (pictured) with the help of donor eggs. I delivered at 47. I'm elated to tell a successful story with a happy ending. We were lucky, I got pregnant on the first try. He's nearly seven months now and I couldn't imagine this beautiful baby as anyone else but 'him.' He's curious. He's hilarious. He's all mine. Catastrophic diaper explosions and all.
We decided not to share his birth story until we shared it with him first. I shared it in cyberspace. Writing about this was incredibly cathartic which is why I'm blogging again. Ok, so I dropped off the cyber planet when I finally got pregnant. Bad blogger. Bad, bad blogger. My only excuse is that I was ridiculously tired from working 60-hour weeks in the crazy film business and dealing with a huge move to Northern California for my husband's new job.
Let me state for the record - moving at nine months is no fun at all.
So, here I am in a new city and a new life with a new hat. Motherhood suits me well. We're having a blast despite my blurry, dark-circled 48-year old eyes. My husband was on the fence about another child and brought up the subject just a few months ago. I had to let go of my El Salvador adoption and was still hoping to try for another baby again. I got my wish.
We've decided to go another round. I've found a sensitive doctor who was charmed by my son and boasted a spiffy track record. I've got 15 fat, juicy, eggs waiting to be thawed and shipped to their new home. Whoa, that sounds creepy. For the record, I'm no wanna-be Ocatamom. I'm an advocate of single-cell transfers (for older moms) and my new doctor concurs. I've started some new testing and we're looking at a July transfer. I'm excited. I'm terrified. 48, really? You bet I am.
We've also decide to tell our birth story, which probably isn't as complicated as I've imagined. Got a 'donor out' story? Please feel free to share. I'm still sorting it all out. Another blog. Another night.