Stephanie's Fertility Journey
Donation protected
I don’t even know how to begin this story, so I am just going to dive right into it and hopefully it will become clear along the way.
All my life I have known my purpose- the one thing I would excel at, no questions asked. I can never remember a time when I didn’t want to be a mom. I can vividly remember going to my brother’s Ute conference football games and while other siblings were dreaming of being the players or the cheerleaders, I was playing out a future of bringing orange slices and Capri Suns to my own kids like the moms on the sidelines.
Being the oldest of 3 isn’t always easy (and I have the scars to prove it) but I have always known I would do battle for my brother and sister. When they had kids, I was woefully unprepared for the overwhelming feeling of love I could have for such a tiny human. I would happily step on Legos every day to get those full belly laughs and hear the happy screamed greeting of “AUNT DEPPY” when I show up unannounced. My best friends’ kids are the same. I love them, and I know they love me. Being an aunt has been my favorite role so far.
It was never in my plans to make it to 32 remaining single and childless, but here we are. So for the past few years as many of you know, I have considered what it would take to become a mother on my own. It’s definitely not an easy path. Especially with a diagnosis of PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) under my belt already. I have spent the last year discussing this with family, friends, and a great team of physicians, and have decided to take this incredible task on the only way I can, diving in head first. I have researched and planned and had tests and appointments and consultations and cry fests. All of those things boil down to this: I am going to try and have a baby with a carefully selected sperm donor. And that is easily the most vulnerable thing I have ever said.
The reason for this post is two-fold. The first is that while I had every intention of keeping this to myself and trying and failing or succeeding quietly, my doctor and friends and family gently reminded me that I am going to need all the support I can get. That if it takes, I will need to celebrate with those that have taken the journey with me, and if, god forbid, it doesn’t, I will need to mourn with those same people rather than collapse in on myself as so many women have done before me in the desire to not be pitied.
The second is more embarrassing to explain. I first want to say that I am incredibly lucky to have a good job, a supportive network, and health insurance. Unfortunately, that health insurance won’t pay one dime toward fertility treatments or sperm donors. It doesn’t kick in until that first positive pregnancy test. And to get there requires an outrageous sum of money, up front. Just how you want to start a new life right? In debt up to your eyeballs? So I started researching. And venting. And in my most vulnerable moments, the people I love begged me over and over again to ask for help. They all want to donate to the cause. I refused on principle. How embarrassing and icky would it make me feel to hit people up for money? Won’t they just think, if she can’t afford this, how is she going to afford a baby? And then a few friends sat me down and gently pointed out that being embarrassed and asking for help from your village is part of the mom game. And what wouldn’t I do to make this miracle happen? So here I am, doing what I thought I would never do, and asking for help to bring a much wanted child into this world. If you can donate, wonderful. And if you can’t, your well wishes will do just as much.
Thank you. You’ll never know what you all mean to me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
All my life I have known my purpose- the one thing I would excel at, no questions asked. I can never remember a time when I didn’t want to be a mom. I can vividly remember going to my brother’s Ute conference football games and while other siblings were dreaming of being the players or the cheerleaders, I was playing out a future of bringing orange slices and Capri Suns to my own kids like the moms on the sidelines.
Being the oldest of 3 isn’t always easy (and I have the scars to prove it) but I have always known I would do battle for my brother and sister. When they had kids, I was woefully unprepared for the overwhelming feeling of love I could have for such a tiny human. I would happily step on Legos every day to get those full belly laughs and hear the happy screamed greeting of “AUNT DEPPY” when I show up unannounced. My best friends’ kids are the same. I love them, and I know they love me. Being an aunt has been my favorite role so far.
It was never in my plans to make it to 32 remaining single and childless, but here we are. So for the past few years as many of you know, I have considered what it would take to become a mother on my own. It’s definitely not an easy path. Especially with a diagnosis of PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) under my belt already. I have spent the last year discussing this with family, friends, and a great team of physicians, and have decided to take this incredible task on the only way I can, diving in head first. I have researched and planned and had tests and appointments and consultations and cry fests. All of those things boil down to this: I am going to try and have a baby with a carefully selected sperm donor. And that is easily the most vulnerable thing I have ever said.
The reason for this post is two-fold. The first is that while I had every intention of keeping this to myself and trying and failing or succeeding quietly, my doctor and friends and family gently reminded me that I am going to need all the support I can get. That if it takes, I will need to celebrate with those that have taken the journey with me, and if, god forbid, it doesn’t, I will need to mourn with those same people rather than collapse in on myself as so many women have done before me in the desire to not be pitied.
The second is more embarrassing to explain. I first want to say that I am incredibly lucky to have a good job, a supportive network, and health insurance. Unfortunately, that health insurance won’t pay one dime toward fertility treatments or sperm donors. It doesn’t kick in until that first positive pregnancy test. And to get there requires an outrageous sum of money, up front. Just how you want to start a new life right? In debt up to your eyeballs? So I started researching. And venting. And in my most vulnerable moments, the people I love begged me over and over again to ask for help. They all want to donate to the cause. I refused on principle. How embarrassing and icky would it make me feel to hit people up for money? Won’t they just think, if she can’t afford this, how is she going to afford a baby? And then a few friends sat me down and gently pointed out that being embarrassed and asking for help from your village is part of the mom game. And what wouldn’t I do to make this miracle happen? So here I am, doing what I thought I would never do, and asking for help to bring a much wanted child into this world. If you can donate, wonderful. And if you can’t, your well wishes will do just as much.
Thank you. You’ll never know what you all mean to me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Organizer
Stephanie Leeds
Organizer
Riverton, UT