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Friday, April 08, 2005
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I never thought of my ethnicity as a hindrance, that my life might somehow be easier if I were white -- until we started looking into donor egg treatment, and I discovered that an already difficult process was going to become that much more stressful because I happen to be Chinese. My people, it seems, are not terribly inclined to give anything to strangers, never mind something so precious as their own genetic material.
This shouldn't come as a terrible surprise. My mother -- one of the kindest people I know -- has often expressed her admiration that so many American families adopt children with whom they have no blood ties, children of perfect strangers from hazily-known backgrounds, backgrounds that are often radically different from the parents' own. My mother finds this amazing -- generous, but strange. This kind of adoption is not so common amongst the Chinese; there's a long history of fear of outsiders, a cultural phobia that's even built into the language. There are Chinese people, and then there are foreigners, and whether you're the one or the other depends not on citizenship but on blood.
If I had a sister, I have no doubt: because we were family, she would offer me her eggs without me having to ask. And I would be thrilled, take her up on the offer without any reservation at all. The boy and I, we have no inherent need to keep our child/children's genetic roots anonymous; we'll tell them as much as we possibly can, because we believe strongly that knowledge is good.
But I only have brothers. And while there are cousins, it's just not the same. They won't offer and I won't ask, at least not directly, because that's just not the done thing; this is too big and too private, and we respect each other far too much. The boy still doesn't quite understand this; he's American to the core. He believes it never hurts to ask for something you really want, that not asking means you're not trying hard enough. I'm American too, but in this matter, at least, my Chineseness wins out. I'll be open and honest, tell everyone we know that we're seeking an egg donor. And if anyone offers, fabulous; we'll consider it seriously, be eternally grateful. But frankly, I'm not holding my breath that that's going to happen.
That leaves us with anonymous donors, strangers, people we don't know. We've been saying we're looking for Asian donors only, with Chinese ideal. When we first started talking about this, I wondered if it mattered at all; it wouldn't be my genes either way, so what difference would ethnicity really make? But the boy was adamant. And so, as we've begun this process of researching clinics, we've had to ask specifically about the availability of Asian donors. And each time I do, I brace myself for more discouraging news.
The first non-UK, non-US clinic has just gotten back to me, a clinic in Spain, informing me that they have no Asian egg donors. But we do have South American donors -- the nice lady adds in what I can only assume she meant as a ray of hope -- they have eye characteristics that are quite similar to Asians.
This last comment makes me snort out loud when I first read it, the idea that South American and Asian might somehow be close enough. This is soon following by annoyance, as I find myself steaming at the nerve of this internet stranger assuming that I have some stereotype of Asian eyes that I'm desperately keen to pass down. What the heck are Asian eyes anyway? Is she thinking slanty and small? Beady and lidless? Because those characteristics? They're not me.
And then I simmer down, because I know she means no offense; I re-read her email, I think about what she's said. And then, I just get sad. Because I realize the thing that really bothers me, the thing I'm not even sure I understood till now? It's not just the physical characteristics I'm looking for when I look for that elusive Asian donor.
No, I'm looking for something below the surface, something I'm not quite sure even makes sense. I'm looking for that tiny shred of shared something, that miniscule bit of common ethnic blood. Because irrational as I'm sure this is, I can't help but feel it deep in my bones: blood seems tangible. It feels like proof of who we are.
So it's not about the straight black hair or the yellow skin or the flattish nose or the fullish lips. And it's definitely not about the eyes, slanty or lidless or otherwise. It's about my need to create blood ties with my children, in whatever way that I possibly can.
# posted by y @ 6:39 AM
2 comments
It's a strange question to ask, when what you're asking is how much it's going to cost you to conceive your child. It's supposed to be one of those perks of being human, the ability to reproduce. This should have been one of nature's freebies, making a baby with my favorite boy in the world; it's supposed to be an act made possible by love, not by money.
Yes, as many what ifs as there are running around through my head, it's especially hard not to dwell on the financial aspects of what it'll take for us to get me pregnant. When we first started talking about egg donation and IVF, just a few months ago though it feels like ages, we were so thankful that we were living in the UK, where medicine is socialized like it's supposed to be and even private care seems reasonably affordable. No insurance companies to wrestle with or crazy exorbitant fees to worry about, the way there is in our native U.S., where health is basically a business like any other, and infertility even more so.
After a thoroughly depressing meeting with a fertility specialist here in Edinburgh, however, it's become clear that as much as we're itching to get things started now, it's not going to happen in the UK. As the doctor bluntly informed us, there are no egg donors currently available anywhere in the city, even if we were to self-fund. With the recent law barring anonymous donations, and paid donations already illegal, waiting lists throughout the country are now years long. Even if, by some miracle, we were to bring in our own donor -- not necessarily to use ourselves but to add to the pool and bump us to the top of the list -- our chances of finding an Asian egg donor are virtually nil. I suggest you go to Spain, the doctor informed us finally; there's a great clinic in Valencia. Good success rates, no waiting lists, very efficient. And, he added matter-of-factly, their prices are much cheaper.
I came home from that appointment in a dark inky funk. I'm not going to Spain, I wail at the boy through hyperventilated sobs, we're not trying to snag some bargain on our future children! The boy hugs me, and smoothes my hair. It'll all work out, he assures me; we knew we might have to do this back home in the States anyway. Besides, there's nothing wrong with Spain; it's not like it's some third world country. And hey, he jokes, it might be nice to see some sunshine after all these dreary Scottish days.
As it turns out, though, we're not moving back to the States, even after this two-year stint in Edinburgh is up. Around the same time we had the fertility clinic appointment, the boy found out he got a job in Canada. A great job, the dream job, the one he stayed in school for twenty-plus years in order to get. There are all sorts of reasons to be psyched about Canada, and mostly, we're thrilled. But here's the catch: Canada's pretty much like the UK on the egg donation front. While IVF is covered, like all medical treatment in that country, donors can't be paid or donate in anonymity, and as a result, you sit on the waiting list for an eternity.
So I'm discovering some of the limitations of socialized medicine. Yes, it might be free, but what good does it do me when all their regulations make access impossible?
Which is why we've started looking at clinics in the States, even though it still makes me bristle when I think about how commodified the whole process is in my home country. It's also why we're reading up on Spain, even though we don't know a thing about that country's medical care, and I hate the idea of being one of those "reproductive tourists" the media so likes to talk about. I'm asking for prices, and getting details about what's included and what's not; I'm reading about payment plans (no baby! get your money back! -- no joke, I read this on a clinic's website), trying to stop wrinkling my nose in distaste. I'm slowly teaching myself to stop thinking about should've beens and supposed tos, because for us, this is just the way it's going to be. Money's going to be a part of it, no doubt about that, but in the end, it's still about love. Love's what carries us through this constant stress, the frequent heartache; it's what makes this all worthwhile.
# posted by y @ 10:43 AM
2 comments 