Have I said it’s been a whirlwind of a year already and we’re only half way in? Oh I have? Or haven’t. Doesn’t matter. Cause it’s taken me by storm and I am tired. Tired, but blessed. I have a supportive family, friends, loving (though annoying) boyfriend, a reliable car (with note) that I can afford, I just purchased a house last month, and I’m starting a new job. I’m only 23. I’m VERY blessed and highly favored. I’m thankful for everything in my life. And here comes the but…
|Look at those cheeks!|
Within the past year, three people close to me have passed away under the age of 30. One was wrongfully killed by a sheriff, one died of cancer at 27, and one died of childbirth at 23. She was my best friend in middle school. Her death tore me to pieces. I just got back home from her funeral last week and I saw a ton of people I haven’t seen in years. It was…refreshing. And caused me to do a lot of soul searching while the apartment was quiet in Thomas’ absence
and my lack of packing up the apartment. I have everything I want in my life. At least at this moment. I can’t complain. A friend/coworker of mine that was having infertility issues told me the other day that the remaining eggs of hers that she had frozen cannot be used to have another child (she has one adorable little boy already thanks to IVF) and she can’t afford other treatments. It hurts me to no end hearing her say that considering all she’s ever wanted was children. See. Plural. But she can only have one. At least one that’s biologically hers. She put the bug in my ear that I should donate my eggs some time ago and I kinda brushed it off. It’s not something that has never crossed my mind before but I’ve now taken the steps to actually become a donor. I want to give a family out there the greatest gift of all: a child.
Infertility is a very hush hush topic overall. It’s even quieter in Black communities. I can’t TELL you how many times people are barraging me about marriage and kids. Hell, they’re asking me about kids first instead of marriage. I’m not saying I’ll never want kids, but I surely don’t right now. And I might not ever want them for my own very personal reasons that I’ve thought over. If I’m not gonna use these eggs, why not complete some other couple’s or even single person’s life by giving them that? I don’t care if the couple is Black, White, Asian, alien (though I’m a bit more skeptical on that one), or a giant mix of races in one big old pot. If you want a child, can’t have one, and are willing to love and nurture them come hell or high water, I want to help you with that. I want to give you that chance. Approximately 12% of women ages 15-44 in the U.S. are not able to have children according to the American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG). This article touches on how many Black women really do struggle with conception and carrying a child to term. It’s a problem that women aren’t speaking up about.
|The greatest gift of all.|
I know there are some psychologically things that come into play whether I donate my eggs or even carry as a surrogate (another thought of mine). I’d be “giving up” my children. What if they resent me? What if I can’t have kids of my own one day? Who knows. The only thing I’m concerned about is happiness. Not just mine, but others out there. So if one day, I donate my eggs, they grow up to become humans, I just want them to be happy and know that their “mommy” was a blerd and I love them dearly even if I never meet them.