Their story is heartfelt and true. It chronicles the extraordinary circumstances of how two women met, and needed one another to begin families. This is a story of how lives and families become intertwined, and what perseverance and knowledge can accomplish. They take the reader through their journey with humor, tears, and raw emotion. Two stranger's quest for a family led to an unexpected life-long bond and friendship.
Egg Sisters
The true story of two strangers and how they changed a generationBy Alyson Gilmore Brenda SajewskiAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 Alyson Gilmore and Brenda Sajewski
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4389-8349-3Contents
Preface................................................................ixAlyson's Drug Deal.....................................................1Brenda's Story.........................................................4Alyson Gets an Idea....................................................14Alyson's Decision: To Give or Not To Give..............................17Brenda Wonders: Are Eggs Just Eggs?....................................20The First Gilmore-Sajewski Date........................................24The First Sajewski-Gilmore Date........................................27Alyson Finds a PMS Companion...........................................30The Cycle That Almost Wasn't...........................................39Alyson's Surgery.......................................................43Brenda's Day of Surgery................................................46Alyson Waits for the Results...........................................49Brenda Waits for the Phone Call........................................51Alyson Waits for the Phone Call........................................54Brenda Gets the Call...................................................56Alyson Gets Back On That Horse.........................................64Brenda Celebrates Pregnancies for Everyone.............................68Alyson's First Trimester...............................................71Brenda Prepares for Birth..............................................77Alyson's Aftermath.....................................................85Alyson Again Gets Back On That Horse...................................89Finally!...............................................................96Brenda Rejoices, Motherhood for All....................................99Alyson Gets One-Upped By Brenda........................................100Brenda Becomes Fertile Myrtle..........................................101Alyson Basks in Motherhood.............................................104Brenda's Pregnant ... Time for Bob to Hit the Road.....................106Alyson Hosts the Sajewskis.............................................110Brenda's Japanese Junket...............................................112Alyson's Japanese Pen Pal..............................................113Alyson Gets Some Shocking News.........................................115Brenda Learns of the Dead Rabbit.......................................117Alyson's Third Miracle Child...........................................118The Family Meet and Greet..............................................121Everyone Gets to Know Each Other.......................................122Alyson Wonders When to Tell the Kids...................................124Alyson's Egg Sister Returns Home to the States.........................126A Get-Away Vacation Is Planned.........................................127Viva Las Vegas!........................................................130My Feet Hurt...........................................................133Tao Shoes..............................................................137Alyson's Epilogue......................................................141Brenda's Epilogue......................................................145
Chapter One
Alyson's Drug Deal
A beautiful January evening in San Diego. I was enjoying the crisp air, cruising the freeway with my convertible's top down, wind in my hair, enigmatic smile on my face. If this scene were to be part of a movie, I think I'd best be played by Reese Witherspoon-confident and peppy, maybe even a bit sassy, and wearing really cool sunglasses. After all, I was about to make my first-ever drug purchase and was very excited that I'd be paying less than retail. While the drugs weren't illegal and I had a prescription for them, the way I'd be obtaining them was certainly in the legal gray area.
I was about to purchase injectable fertility drugs. Insurance companies pay very little, or none at all, for this type of prescription. As a result, infertility patients can easily spend $3,000 a month for this drug habit.
A nurse in my doctor's office had whispered to me that a patient had given up in her quest for a biological child and had moved into the arena of adoption. That patient had left her phone number with the nurse, saying she was willing to sell her remaining collection of drugs (at least a month's worth) at a good price.
I called that woman the following evening and introduced myself as a prospective buyer. Once we agreed upon the price of $1,000, we made arrangements to meet that Wednesday at her office parking lot in San Diego at 4 p.m. for the drug drop.
We wondered how we'd recognize one another. But, because we were likely to be the only two women in the parking lot at 4 p.m. each carrying a brown paper bag-hers with drugs, mine with cash-we decided, that couldn't be too difficult.
I arrived early and waited. She was right on time and dutifully carrying her paper bag. We formally introduced ourselves to one another and shook hands. I was hesitant to say too much to her, as I was sure that she was ready to put this rollercoaster of infertility treatments behind her and look ahead to the adoption of a beautiful baby. On the other hand, my ride was just beginning, and I was very hopeful.
She asked me about my infertility treatments, and we both laughed about the horrible months of using Clomid, the "wonder pill." We decided that the only wonder about that pill was how our dear husbands put up with our mood swings while we were taking it. She spoke of her husband in such a loving tone that I could tell they had a very committed and bonded relationship.
I shared my history with her, too, and felt very drawn to her smile and compassion. She was the first woman I'd spoken to about my infertility journey who had already "Been there. Done that." Soon, I worked up the courage to ask her more about her story.
Chapter Two
Brenda's Story
Alyson wanted to know "my story." Where do I start? Do I tell her that at age 31, I finally married my soul mate? Do I tell her that I started dealing with infertility at 18? That was when I was diagnosed with endometriosis. It was 1978, and this was a "new" disease.
What I knew now was that the years of painful periods I'd had as an adolescent were not just about me having a low-pain tolerance. If I could only take my mother back to all those times when she said, "This is what being a woman feels like, and you need to deal with it." As it would turn out, my mother was the first one to hold me tightly after my diagnosis and whisper the words, "I'm sorry." She wasn't sorry for just the diagnosis, but sorry for all those times she told me to "suck it up."
There was a time, when I was about 21 years old, that I was so desperate for a child and so afraid my diseased body would deny me, that I attempted artificial insemination with donor sperm. The three procedures were not successful, and I thought God was not listening to my heartfelt prayers. As time would tell, God was listening and knew that it just wasn't the right time for me. I spent the next 10 years having surgeries to keep my endometriosis at bay while at the same time trying to save my fertility.
I met Bob in the Washington, D.C. area when I was 29 years old. Twelve days after I turned 31, we were married. My endocrinologist told us to go on our honeymoon and enjoy each other, which we gladly did. It was wonderful to be a wife, Bob's wife. I felt sorry for anyone who wasn't me.
Within weeks of returning from our honeymoon, we made an appointment to get serious about becoming pregnant. We started with Clomid and good, old-fashioned sex.
Nothing happened (in the baby department, that is). After six months, it was decided to try injectable hormones and start taking the fertility drug Pergonal. Bob was getting special treatment, too, by having his sperm spun in a special machine (to keep the good swimmers and get rid of the slowpokes), and I was then inseminated through a catheter. After months of this, we still had no pregnancy.
It was at this point that Bob, who is a Marine, got orders to work outside his training as an electrician and become a drill instructor for two years. He was given a choice of duty stations: South Carolina or California. After some quick research, we chose San Diego as our new home, based on the reproductive options available.
Also, my brother and his family lived in that area, and Bob felt they could be a support for me through what was sure to be a grueling process. I was teaching in Fairfax, Virginia, and so Bob and I lived separately for four months while I finished the school year-not a good way to try to get pregnant.
But I spent those months researching infertility clinics in Southern California. I found one with a very good reputation in the Los Angeles area. We had an appointment by the second week after I'd moved there. The doctor was very optimistic for our success. I left that appointment feeling hopeful and excited. This was it! Bob and I were going to make a baby, and our lives would be perfect.
Starting the drugs, all injectable, requires a commitment of time and know-how. Bob was a drill instructor in San Diego at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot and had little flexibility in his schedule. The military is not the most accommodating profession when it comes to family issues. But my parents were retired, so I placed a call, asking if they could possibly head west in their RV and help with the injections. They dropped everything and proudly told their retiree buddies that they were off to California to "help our daughter get pregnant." (I've always hoped they explained that statement further to their friends).
My parents accompanied us to the clinic to learn about assisted reproduction and how to give injections. Now, please note that my mother, who had four healthy babies, has always said, "If your father just looked at me, I was pregnant." So the information they were hearing about the point that Bob and I had reached both saddened and puzzled them.
Every morning, I injected myself in the leg with the drug Lupron (to prevent ovulation). That wasn't too big of a deal. But the fertility drugs, Pergonal and Metrodin, had to be mixed and injected into my bottom. That's where my husband and my father came in. (My mother discovered she didn't have the stomach for it, so she took on the cheerleader role).
On the first night, everyone was nervous. I walked out to the kitchen sporting my highest-heeled shoes and a little sassy sway in my hips. I was the one that had to be injected and endure the roller coaster of hormone-raging emotions. But I felt I needed to make everyone else comfortable. So I also took on the role of cheerleader.
I am 5-foot-4 inches tall and Bob is 6-foot-2. So we decided that my leaning over the kitchen counter would be the best position to receive the injections. I began my mantra of "You can do it, baby," even as I felt the sweat and the shake in Bob's hands. Ready ... set ... the needle went in-and flew back out at record speed.
His enthusiasm had been a bit too much. I felt his arms around me from behind as he started his long litany of "I'm sorry's." But I was not giving up that easily. I encouraged him to "get right back on that horse," except this time put that needle in with a little less vigor.
Now, let me point out that all our practicing had been done on an orange. I'm happy to say that my skin was apparently less rigid than that of an orange peel. Well, Bob took a deep breath (by now my mother is covering her face and my dad is thinking, "Thank God, Bob went first"), and the needle slid in at a rather slow, painful pace. But at least the medicine was in, and after a little rub and a pat, we were done.
This continued for days. I would drive myself an hour and a half to get my daily ultrasound to check the growth of my follicles (egg production in the ovaries). The doctor was looking for a number around 20, and I was producing only about three. Each time I went, the doctor increased the amount of fertility hormone in an attempt to increase follicle production. My follicles weren't producing any more eggs, but my hormones were surely raging and my butt was getting sore because the dose of medicine was now so large it had to be given in two injections.
After 12 days or so, the time came to aspirate (collect) the eggs. I ended up with three that were fertilized by Bob and then placed in my uterus a couple of days later. I will never forget the doctor's words that day when he said, "You're now a little bit pregnant." After lying there for an hour and then driving home with Bob for another hour and a half with my legs up on the dashboard (anything to help keep those embryos where they needed to be), I got home and restricted myself to bed for 10 days.
The doctor didn't say that was necessary. But I just felt I needed to do everything humanly possible to help the process along. I spent those 10 days praying that at least one of the embryos would take. I would squeeze my breasts periodically throughout the day to see if they had that pregnancy tenderness to them. I would also look in the mirror often to see if I was sporting a "glow."
Ten days later, we drove back to the LA clinic for a blood-pregnancy test. Later that afternoon, the phone call came. My HCG level (the hormone you have when you're pregnant, the one that makes the pregnancy-test stick turn blue) was low but positive. It seems I was "a little bit pregnant." We were jubilant but cautious. I had to go back to the clinic in two days for another blood-pregnancy test to see if the level was rising.
So, two days later I trekked back up there with my mother, had my blood drawn, and went home to wait for hours to hear the results. The call came. The level had risen, and I was officially pregnant! My parents and I hugged and cried and impatiently waited for Bob to come home to hear the news.
The look on his face when I told him was the warmest, most tender look I could remember ever seeing from him. My life was now perfect! I was already feeling protective of my little one and anxious to do all I could to keep him/her inside and growing! We went to dinner to celebrate that night, and I can still remember the feeling of wanting to tell everyone in that restaurant that we were pregnant. I felt like the first woman ever to have such a miracle growing inside.
The next week progressed smoothly. I was getting my nightly injections of the hormone Progesterone (a very thick, oily substance), which was causing bruising and knots. But I saw it as direct help to my baby and took each injection with a smile.
I decided to return to work part-time at a daycare center and try to put a little money back in the bank account we'd so completely depleted with our infertility expenses. I wasn't at work more than a couple hours when I used the rest room and discovered I was spotting. I went immediately home and to bed and called the doctor. I was told to stay in bed with my feet up and double my Progesterone injection to once in the morning and once at night. I was terrified! How could this be happening?
Luckily, my parents were still in town, and they moved back into the apartment and took over. I didn't move out of that bed except to go to the bathroom and was seriously considering a bedpan so I wouldn't have to get up at all. Eventually, though, my body seemed to quiet down. Perhaps, I thought, we'd ridden out the storm.
Bob had Sunday mornings off, and because he typically worked from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m., my parents decided to go back to their camper and give us some time alone. We lay in bed that morning, holding each other and praying that we would get to the other side with this baby. Bob left for work about noon, and I called my parents to say that I was going to lie low so there was no need for them to come. I wanted to give them some time alone together, too.
It was about two that afternoon when I had a terrible back pain and spasm. I went to the bathroom, and with a force I've never felt before, I miscarried. I just looked into the toilet and sobbed. Finally, I made my way to the phone and called Bob. I told him what happened. I heard him ask the senior drill instructor if he could leave because I'd just miscarried. The answer was, "No!" He could be dismissed in four hours, not before. Four hours!
I called my parents and could hear their tears through the phone. Again, I told them there was no need to come. It was my husband I wanted to comfort me, and I would wait for him. I then called the doctor's office and left a message. The doctor called about 20 minutes later and told me to "save" the tissue and bring it into him the next morning. There was no "I'm sorry," just directions of what to do next.
Bob finally made it home to me. I showed him the tissue, and he cried. It broke my heart again. Could I not give my husband a child? Had I disappointed him? Nothing was further from the truth. Very few of Bob's tears came from his own pain. He was crying for me, and the heartache he could see and feel as he held me.
I needed to try again. I was now an invitro junkie. Unfortunately, I had to find a new doctor because the one we were seeing left the country quite abruptly. It seems he'd bettered his numbers by using the best eggs, even if they didn't belong to the right woman. Who knows? Maybe the baby we made wasn't really ours.
The new search led me to La Jolla and Dr. Wood (the doctor Alyson and I shared). The doctor equated my first pregnancy to winning big in Vegas. If it could happen once, it could happen again. We did three more cycles and not only did we not achieve a pregnancy, we didn't even come close. It was then my new doctor told me that basically my eggs were crap, and we needed to look into donor eggs. That was a tough pill to swallow.
I went to his office and pored through his books reading about the potential candidates. I left feeling sick and worthless as a woman. This was a hurdle I didn't know if I could jump.
Through all this I'd become good friends with another wife of a drill instructor. She had two beautiful daughters, and pregnancy came easily for her. She was one of those, "All-he-does-is-look-at-me-and-I'm-pregnant" people. Her name is Brenda as well, and she offered to be stimulated and give us her eggs to mix with Bob's sperm, and then I would carry the pregnancy. It was an offer we couldn't resist. We went down this avenue for two cycles, and while Brenda could make tons of eggs, they didn't fertilize very well with Bob's sperm. Six invitro cycles (four with my eggs and two with Brenda's) and lots of money later, I was done!
Bob had down pat the routine of bringing me a bottle of wine after each negative pregnancy test. But it was this last cycle when my state of depression scared him. It was also this last cycle when I was introduced to a tranquilizer Xanax (dubbed "my new best friend"). Both of us ended up saying, "Enough!"
We researched adoption and started the portfolio process with an attorney in nearby Temecula. That led to the question: What to do with the very expensive drugs in our refrigerator? And, of course, that's where Alyson comes in.
What can I say about my first impression of Alyson? She was very easy to talk to, and her enthusiasm for reproductive technology got me excited for her. I was careful not to give her all the details because she was still a virgin, with this process anyway, and I didn't want to disillusion her.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Egg Sistersby Alyson Gilmore Brenda Sajewski Copyright © 2009 by Alyson Gilmore and Brenda Sajewski. Excerpted by permission.
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