A Letter to My Future Donor Conceived Child: Emilee's Letter
When I found out I couldn’t have my own babies in March 2021, I was mentally and emotionally gutted. Everything I had planned and hoped for since I was a little girl fell away in an instant. I had assumed having my own children was a given since everyone I know has their own kids. Some people by accident, or ‘accidentally on purpose’, others through IVF; but they were always their kids.
I can’t remember much from the weeks following my diagnosis. I had delusions and hallucinations about the life I thought I’d have. I was angry, depressed and hopeless. I didn’t see a point to continuing on in life if I wouldn’t ever get to hold my babies in my arms, or give my parents grandchildren. I’d never get to see my blue-green eyes reflected back at me in the face of my own sweet child. “What’s the point?” I thought. The grief slowly ate away at me until I became a shell of myself.
In the beginning of my healing journey – my recovery, let’s call it – I tried anything I could think of to bring my ovarian function back. Acupuncture, reiki, crystal healing, yoga. I spent hundreds (honestly, probably thousands) of dollars on these things to no avail, though they did make me feel better and help me to heal. Every doctor I spoke to said my levels were impossibly, irreversibly low. I felt like there was no hope to be found. No amount of good energy or positivity — or hell, even medical intervention — would bring back my ability to produce eggs and have my own babies.
Hopelessness has always been one of my biggest fears. When I was 17, I got the word “hope” tattooed on my wrist as a reminder that so long as I had something to hope for and someone to love, life was worth living. At this point I knew I needed to seek help because I couldn’t continue living in fear. Two psychiatrists, an APRN, a social worker and a therapist later, I finally gained some traction. Fresh perspectives were brought to me and served up, gently, on a weekly basis.
When I started therapy, one of my biggest gripes was that I never got the chance to “try and fail” with my own genetics. I felt like the IUIs and the own-egg-IVF cycles I never got to have were so unfair. I thought to myself, even if they all failed, at least I’d know I tried. Joining this group helped me to recognize that wasn’t the case at all.
Now, my sweet baby, I know you’re thinking: “Mama, what does any of this have to do with me?” My darling, it has everything to do with you.
Without this trauma and recovery journey, I’d never have learned so much about myself as a person, as a woman, and as a mother. I’ve learned a lot about your daddy, and how supportive he is when I’ve lost all sight of the future. I’ve learned about your family – our family – and how fierce the love they have for us is. I’ve learned about the people in my corner, our friends, and just how supportive they all are. I’ve cried to them, gotten snot on their shoulders, and had them lift up my chin all the same and tell me: “No matter how you get there, you are going to be an amazing mother.”
I have had to go through hell and back to get to get to you. I think of it like one of those dreams where you’re running for your life, but you don’t know where to or what from.
Just running, frantically, doing your best to not get hurt and to conserve energy and save time to reach the destination even though you don’t know what’s waiting for you there. That is what this has to do with you. I’ve learned that I will do everything in my power to protect you, to love you, and to help you learn and gain your own perspectives in life. I can’t wait to watch you grow up and become your own person.
While we don’t share genetics, we share something even more important: love. You are our soul baby, our love child, our everything. You will forever be my “something to hope for” and my “someone to love.” You are the single most important thing that has ever happened to me, and I’d go through it all again a thousand times over just to get to you.
I am so thankful for our donor and the gift she’s given us. I hope to someday learn more about her and share in that joy with you and your siblings. We won’t ever keep you from knowing where you came from. Know this: you are proudly donor conceived. Your donor was hand chosen by us and for us by the universe. Everything has fallen into place, my
love. And it was all worth it in the end.