Egg Donors Anonymous

Hi, my name is Casey and I’m a repeat egg donor. I injected myself with hormones, had a minorly invasive procedure, and anonymously donated a big ol’ batch of my eggs four different times, to four different couples. I did this throughout my 20’s when I felt a deep, primal yearning to exercise my fertility (that’s normal, right?). But I definitely wasn’t ready to become a parent.

Today, I am 37 years old and I have two daughters. A two-year-old firecracker who loves to sing, and a two-month-old cooing newborn. I love being their mother so much and becoming a parent has been the most rewarding and beautiful experience of my life so far. 

But I’m here to tell you about another little girl– we’ll call her Gloria, and she’ll be turning nine this spring. I’ve never met her before, I’ve never seen a photo of her, but biologically she’s also my daughter. From when I donated my eggs. 

It’s a pretty bizarre thing to wrap your head around. I have all these eggs that could turn into people, and instead of just dropping one unfertilized egg every cycle, I took drugs to harvest two dozen at a time. Then I got a doctor to suction them out at the exact right hour they’d all be in my fallopian tubes, and then gave them all to strangers without ever learning of their outcome.

Because that’s how it works with anonymous donation– everything is kept separate. I give the families every single detail about myself, from my maternal grandfather’s cause of death to the exact texture of my hair. But I never get to learn anything about the intended couples or what happens after I donate. That’s part of the deal. Or so I thought.

The last time I donated I had a complication, something called ovarian hyper stimulation syndrome. The hormones I was taking created a surplus of ovarian fluid, as they’re supposed to, but I produced too much. And I got really sick. So sick I was put on strict bed rest and an entirely liquid diet for two weeks. Apparently that was the only way to really flush out the fluid and make sure it didn’t leak into other parts of my body, which could have been fatal. It was scary, painful, and an all-around bad time.

Once I recovered, I decided that was my last cycle. My body had been through so much, I was entering my 30’s, and I’d rather wait until I was pregnant myself before putting my body through something so intense again.

But about a year later, even though I had told the agency I was “retired”, they asked if I might be willing to do just one more cycle. They didn’t give me any other information and I politely declined. I had made up my mind. But then, something quite shocking happened. The agency emailed me again, this time with a letter. It was from a previous couple who I had donated to, I think my second time, reaching out to me personally. Up until this point I had zero communication with any of the families who received my eggs. I never learned any details about them or the outcome of their fertility journeys. I think they do it this way on purpose, to keep everyone separate so as to not feel emotionally attached to an outcome. So this was highly unusual.

In the letter they told me they had a beautiful daughter born from one of my eggs. She loved to dance, was super friendly, and very inquisitive. They hoped to be able to use the batch of eggs I originally donated to produce two children, but it already took several attempts to conceive Gloria, and after trying a few more times they were out of eggs. (And that’s after I gave them 25 eggs from one donation cycle- just to show how hard it still is). So they were asking if I would reconsider and do it one last time so they could give Gloria a genetic sibling.

My head was spinning. They told me her name. They told me her personality traits. Of my biological daughter. And I was receiving this well before I would ever have a child of my own. It was mind blowing. I was confused. And, I wanted to scream. There was a boundary that had been crossed. The agency didn’t ask me if it was OK to send this letter, they just sent it. After I had already said no to donating. And the fact that the family had included such personal details about their daughter really tugged at my heart strings. Which I’m sure was part of the intention of the letter. I mean, I get it. As a parent you’re willing to do just about anything for your family.

I was so torn. I was literally the only person who could help this family. So in order to buy time I asked for more money to offset the costs of missing work and requested more flexibility in the scheduling process. In retrospect, I realize I was hoping these requests would not be met and it would all just go away.

But when the agency responded and said the family was willing to move forward with my requests, all I felt was dread. The needles. The headaches. The actual removal of living cells from my body and giving them to another person. I was drained just thinking about it.

I guess it really never was about the money. Because the “high” amount I requested was being met and I still just didn’t want to do it. I had to listen to my gut, literally and figuratively. As much as my heart ached for their story, I couldn’t go through with it. And besides feeling very “done” with the process, my life felt more full than it ever had before. I had so much going on and so many ways to share myself with the world. In my past, an egg donation cycle had served me in many ways. One of which was providing a sense of purpose during some darker and lonelier times in my life. But now, it did not feel like it would be adding to my life. It felt like it would be taking from it. And I wasn’t willing to give so freely of myself like I may have done when I was younger and more insecure.

I told the agency my decision and I even sent my own letter back addressed to the couple, explaining my choice and wishing them well. I spent a lot of time carefully choosing my words and making sure they knew this was not an easy decision for me. But after sending my letter, I never heard back from the family or the agency again.

I don’t regret that decision, but it still makes me sad to think about it. And this unique situation allowed me to learn about this one little girl and her existence at all, which means there may be even more Casey offspring in the world than I thought.

Sometimes when people learn about my donations they ask, “Doesn’t it feel crazy that you have, like, children out in the world?” And it’s never felt that way to me. I’ve always framed it like- it was that intended couple who made the choice for that life to exist.  And now, after carrying, birthing, and raising my own daughters, I feel even less parental connection to any of their lives. It is 100% in the hands of the people raising those little ones. Because it’s about so much more than sharing genes.  It’s the constant dedication, the patience, the unconditional love, and the choice you make every single day to show up for them. That’s what it means to have a child. To be a parent. And I feel honored to have been able to help make that dream happen for the families I’ve donated to.

~ Casey Gates Frey