egg donor california


Why a Backup Egg Donor is a Good Idea

Thursday, February 25th, 2010

You’ve been searching for weeks for your ideal egg donor candidate, taking into consideration physical characteristics, fertility history, family health and educational achievements.  You’ve ranked your favorites, narrowed them down, slept on it and now that you’ve found your perfect match and are ready to book her, you can breathe a big sigh of relief and know that your search is finally behind you.

Right?

iStock_000002307811SmallNot quite.  Despite the best of intentions, something will go wrong in 25%-30% of all egg donor cycles and most, if not all of these issues cannot be predicted in advance.  Beverly Hills Egg Donation has an extensive in-house screening process and a team of donor reps who work diligently to ensure that our selection of donors is the strongest that it can be, but there is always the potential for surprises once a cycle gets underway.  As is the nature of working with a young woman in her early to mid- twenties, your donor will be having medical testing for a number of things that, if not for this donation, she likely would never have been tested for at her age.  There are also occasionally unforeseen issues that come up in the psychological testing, genetic counseling, or during the legal process.  In fact, this is why we utilize these professionals in the first place – to protect you and ensure that you have the best chance possible at a successful outcome once the medication phase of the cycle begins.  While our personal screening process is an initial review, we employ others to help uncover any health/genetic problems that may otherwise have gone undetected and confirm that your donor is psychologically prepared to donate.

This is why, no matter how perfect your donor may seem, we always recommend that you select a backup option before going forward with your cycle.  We have many repeat donors available (which lessens the possibility that something unexpected will come up to deter or derail your cycle), but even then if something goes wrong and you have a backup choice, our cycle coordinator will be able to help you move seamlessly onto that donor without using any momentum.  There is also no additional agency fee to switch donors; your full fee will be applied to the subsequent cycle.

Ideally, your cycle will be completed smoothly and without a hitch.  However, one of the best things that you can do to make your experience with egg donation as successful as possible is to remain flexible and be prepared for the unexpected – which includes having a backup donor in mind before you book your perfect match.

Growing

Monday, February 15th, 2010

iStock_000004609436XSmall

Check out our freshly updated “Who We Are” page to meet the newest staff members to join the BHED team.  Liz Bader-Natal, Bay Area Coordinator,  provides support to Donors and Intended Parents throughout the duration of the cycle.  Sally Blackford manages our online server and has lent a tremendous hand in keeping day-to-day administrative work running smoothly.  And Diana Ashley, a previous donor herself, works in Donor Outreach to keep each of our donor’s profiles accurate and up-to-date.

With the increases that we’ve seen in every area – from donor applicants to interview, to cycles to manage and medical records to request (and fax, and file, and update…), these ladies have jumped in with both feet and done a stellar job helping our program grow with grace.

Newest BHED Babies!

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010

These two GORGEOUS little girls were born, via a gestational surrogate, to clients Dave and John.

david

Congratulations, guys!!!

The Not-So Drawn Out Blood Draw

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010

The post below comes to us from Diana, a two-time previous donor who is also a staff member at Beverly Hills Egg Donation.  To read her first entry, dealing with overcoming her anxiety about self-injections, click here.

iStock_000002253915SmallNow, let’s get on to the business of having blood drawn during your cycle.  Sure, I recently discovered it’s a piece of cake to have a needle in my skin for a second during an injection, but what about a needle being nestled into my vein for more than a minute as my precious life force is drained from my body into a cold heartless vial?  This would be tricky.  For those of you who hate having blood drawn, you are not alone.  I was the girl who broke into a cold sweat, literally soaking my shirt the minute I sat in the strange school-desk chair, oddly appropriate as I would often be having an internal fit reminiscent of a 2nd grader, and was handed that ball to squeeze.  I hadn’t had blood taken in so long (and hardly remember the last go around after having fainted).  They call my name.  I walk over to what is referred to as the (ahem, cough, swallow) “Blood Station” with my iPod earphones in.

My deer in the headlights look is greeted by the kindest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen.  These eyes belong to Raul, the Phlebotomist.  He seems to notice my unease, perhaps my clenched fists and general lack of breathing or blinking, and says “I take it you’re not a fan of having your blood drawn?”  To which I say “Not a fan at all, maybe even a heckler” as a strange trail of nervous giggles leaks out of my clenched jaw.  I try to make jokes when I’m nervous, also to downplay how incredibly frightened I am, they’re also usually really horrible jokes as demonstrated.  But for some reason, Raul’s warm presence had me feel it was okay to just come clean, “I’m actually terrified of having my blood drawn.  In fact, it’s the only thing I’m afraid of.  Some people fear car accidents, life failure, earthquakes.  I fear sitting in that chair.  I usually pass out or vomit either before, during or after having my blood drawn.  In fact, I’ve avoided doing it for several years because I’m always so embarrassed by my fainting or throwing up.”  Wow, thanks for the biopic, Barbara Walters.  Raul is not at all put off by this, in fact, he appears to find this honesty refreshingly charming (this is what I tell myself after feeling like I just shared some sort of Judy Blume confessional diary entry).  He’s not looking at me like the high-maintenance mess that’s about to make his job a huge pain.  He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “I’m really good, you won’t feel a thing.  Let’s have you lie down.”  I lay down and already feel 100 times better than I usually did in the chair.  I say, “Raul, I’m going to turn my music up really loud while you do this.”  He smiles and says, “No problem, do what you have to do.”  I turn on my music and the next thing I know Raul is telling me it’s over.  I couldn’t believe it.  I sat up and almost cried.  ”You’re the best Raul!  The best!  You’re the fastest blood-taker in the west!  You’re a blood-taking ninja!”  Raul was laughing, I was laughing.  It was a regular feel good Who’s the Boss episode where Raul lovingly pats me on the head and calls me “Saman-ta”.

Stock PhotoSo what made this go-around so different than previous blood draws?  Quite simply, being open and honest with the Phlebotomist about my fear.  For so long I had tried to”hide” it, as I was painfully embarrassed that a woman my age couldn’t handle what, in the grand scheme of things, is such a simple thing to do.  Come to think of it, after voicing my fear, I immediately had a sense of relief.  That seems to be true for most things in life, I suppose.  We often make ourselves so uncomfortable trying to cover up what we’re afraid of, or ignoring it all together, that it grows into a larger, scarier beast (perhaps simply to get our attention).  If I were to distill my fear, it really came down to the embarrassment of fainting or throwing up.  By sharing my fear with Raul, he was empowered to help me and make some adjustments so that didn’t happen.  So, if you have any fear or anxiety about having your blood drawn, be sure to share that information with the nurse or Phlebotomist, they’re actually extremely accommodating.  After, you might notice that the only drawn out thing about a blood draw is you driving yourself crazy thinking about it.  Similar to the rules that apply to those who have a difficult mother-in-law – acknowledge the fear, but you don’t have to invite it out to lunch and entertain it.

-Diana, BHED donor #4829

Face-to-Face Interviews, 3,000 Miles Away

Thursday, January 14th, 2010

BusinesswomanFor our applicants who live outside of the Los Angeles area, we conduct our interviews via webcam, which gives us the exceptional ability to say that we’ve actually met each one of the egg donors on our database!  I’ve worked with other agencies in the past and I can’t say that the same is true for those organizations.  This gives us the confirmation that the person on the other end really is who they say they are, and gives us a much better feel for the donor’s personality and character.  I really enjoy being able to communicate with a donor in this way.  Some donors who have children of their own will even bring their child(ren) to the camera for a few minutes.  I also love seeing a donor who takes copious notes during our interview – when I can see her writing, it’s confirmation to me that she wants to make sure she knows what is required of her.

More and more of our applicants now have their own cameras that they are able to use for the interview, and for donors who don’t we will send one out via UPS.  From a logistics standpoint, this system actually runs surprisingly smoothly.  The only challenge I’ve experienced when working with webcams is that some donors who have never used a webcam before might have some trouble setting it up, but that is usually sorted out quickly and we can start the interview.  When the interview is over the donor just sends the camera back to us to be used by another candidate.  The process of sending the camera back is very simple as well – we provide them with a return label so there is no expense to the donor.  It makes it easy for everyone!

-Susan Rai, Beverly Hills Egg Donation

How to Needle Your Way Out of Injection Anxiety

Thursday, October 22nd, 2009

I’d like to dedicate this entry to my needle fearing friends.  You know who you are.  The gal that hears the word “needle” one moment and finds herself hanging upside down from the ceiling fan the next.  The thought of having blood taken for some is a minor inconvenience, but, for you, it’s a nightmare equal to that of having a spider crawl in your ear and hang a finely crocheted web on your cochlea.  The smell of rubbing alcohol at a doctor’s office triggers a sort of Pavlov’s Dog response to pull down your shirt sleeves and put your veins on lock down.  I know who you are because, a few months ago, I was you.

istock_000003069134small4I’ll be honest, when I decided to donate I was so excited about the idea of helping someone have a child that I had sort of “overlooked” the logistics of injections and having weekly blood draws.  This honeymoon phase vanished the moment I received my box of medication, which included about 30 needles.  I quickly ran over to my roommate and showed her in horror.  She shrugged and said, “They’re tiny”.  Yeah, okay, tough guy, they’re tiny.  But, lest us not forget, they’re still NEEDLES.  A tiny cockroach is still a cockroach.  Besides, it’s all relative.  Your tiny is my huge.  Your “it’s just a needle” is my nightmare on ice with a sprig of nausea.

Fast forward to my first injection.  The staff at my doctor’s office thoroughly explained the process of how to do a self-administered injection, so I did feel a little more at ease – empowered with knowledge as they say.  **Side note: the staff at the office I went through were simply amazing.  Take the opportunity to get to know the staff at whatever office you go through.  They are an invaluable asset to the entire process, like your medically trained cheerleaders.  Back to my first date with the needle: I got home and paced around like an anxious cat who kept hearing its name being called.  I looked at the clock, it was ten minutes until I was scheduled to do my injection.  I laid out my supplies – the alcohol pad, the needle, the vile of Lupron and (what I will reveal to you as the holy grail of injections, ladies) my slightly frozen can of diet coke.  Who would have thought a diet coke could contain such power that, if wielded correctly, could erase a lifetime of fear.  I suppose it did skyrocket Cindy Crawford’s career and make us all go cut our jeans into shorts.  So here’s the deal: throw a can of soda in the freezer for a bit and let it get nice and cold.  Five minutes before your scheduled injection, numb the area.  My nurse suggested numbing it for a minute, but for this first go-around I decided to put every last sensation in my skin to sleep…five minutes for me, thanks.  I numbed the area, went over it with an alcohol pad, let it dry, and drew up my dose in a syringe.  In that moment, I had an epiphany – if Katherine Heigl’s character on Grey’s Anatomy can do it, I can do it.  I pinched the skin on my tummy, lined up the needle, took a breath, istock_000007383548xsmall7looked away and put it in (at a 90 degree angle).  When I looked back down, the needle was in but I was completely shocked, I couldn’t feel anything.  Nothing.  Zip.  I want to be clear here and say, I am a wus about this stuff and I honestly couldn’t even feel it.  I released the tummy pinch, pushed the dose in, removed the needle (pull straight out), wiped over the area with alcohol and did a victory phone lap, calling about ten of my closest friends to tell them that I was a fearless Goddess Warrior who may have missed her calling as a professional shot giver.  As strange as it sounds, I was actually looking forward to my next injection.

I think that my greatest piece of advice in regards to how to cope with injection anxiety would be to remember that we’re often our own worst enemies – psyching ourselves out, telling ourselves “I can’t do this”.  I’m here to tell you that if I can, you most certainly can.  Think of some of the stuff you’ve overcome in your life.  In comparison, I’m sure that needle truly is tiny.

-Diana, BHED donor #4829