Microblog Monday – From the Ground Up

It was a fantastic weekend. Filled with lots of quality time with the ones I love the most.We had dinners, went to my niece’s basketball games, I got my bi-weekly gel manicure, did some shopping, and had a wonderful sushi lunch with my best friend then went to her house and spent some quality time with her daughter.

Yesterday, I woke up to a text from my husband with a link to a song. had goose bumps as soon as I heard it. I am so lucky to be with a man that after over 10 years he still surprises me with songs, and notes, etc. Then it got to these lyrics…

“me and you baby
walking our first steps, build our own family, one day at a time
ten little toes a painted pink room
a beautiful baby looks just like you”
I instantly got a lump in my throat. Part of the lyrics ring so true, because we remind ourselves daily that the donor egg process has to move one day at a time, that waiting is just part of it. Then the end of those lyrics, about their baby girl looking just like her. I can’t help but get a little emotional when I think that technically, our children won’t. I know in my heart, that it doesn’t matter, and that with my husband’s family and how everyone looks alike my odds are pretty slim anyways, but it was just a reminder that I wasn’t ready for.
It made me realize that lately I’ve started to change how I view certain things now that I’ve accepted the reality of donor eggs. I have started avoiding looking at picture of me or my family as children (and trying to find my future children in them), I have started getting a weird feeling when I hear others talk about who their child looks like, or acts like, and I have started seeing every pretty dark haired woman as the woman who could be helping me start a family. These aren’t bad things, if I don’t let them be, it’s just our reality and my heart accepted it long before my brain did.
I was 22 when I found out I had a balanced translocation and it didn’t take long for me to realize that after 2 d&c’s I would do whatever it took to not only avoid that at any cost but to have a child of my own. After foster parenting for a year I realized even more that the one part I’m not willing to give up on yet is carrying my child, to go through child birth, to finally have a good ultrasound…
So we continue to wait. One day at a time. And we’ll build this love, and this family, from the ground up…

6 thoughts on “Microblog Monday – From the Ground Up

  1. I'm a mom to twin 4-year-old boys born via DE. Long before we had children, my husband used to joke that he knew our children would look like him and his family because “the [husband's surname] genes are strong.” I poo-poo-ed this idea and chose our egg donor in part because she looked like she could be a relative of mine.

    Darned if my husband wasn't right: one of our sons looks like my FIL and the other looks like my MIL. BTW, their lack of a physical resemblance to me does not bother me at all. 🙂


  2. It is a good idea to get used to the resemblance talk. In baby time it is hard to avoid. And then, at least for me, i came to the realisation that while many people mean resemblance as proof of a genetic link, resemblance is just one person looking like another. When your donor looks like you, your baby might just look like you too.
    But I will admit that when my DE toddler does things that are typically my father I am a little flabbergasted.


  3. My son was conceived via donor eggs, and I’m constantly being told how he’s is such a perfect combination of both my husband and myself. People look for it, so they expect it, so they find it.

    For me one of the strange parts of giving birth was that when my son came out, he was a stranger. Somehow I hadn’t expected this being that had been inside me for so long and who I ‘knew’ would feel like a stranger, but of course we didn’t know each other face-to-face. And it’s not because he was from a donor – I’ve spoken to lots of mums who have felt this. You have to get to know your bub, no matter what the genes. Then you get to know each other. I recognised his hiccups – so THAT’S what he was doing in there. Then I learned what he wanted when – oh, he HATES being hot just like me. Now I’m the only one who understands all this words – sure he’s mumbling, but he’d like Vegemite toast.

    I’m mentioning this as I think this is universal stuff, but as my child doesn’t share my genes I thought it was just me. I thought we were different.

    We’re not. He’s my son; I’m his mum.

    And people still think he looks like me.



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