Journalist Justine Griffin reported her experience donating eggs. Hormone shots were self-injected, first to halt the regular cycle, then to stimulate the ovaries to produce more eggs.
Journalist Justine Griffin reports her first-hand experience with egg donation.
Justine Griffin has short, unpainted nails tipping the ends of her gesturing hands. Her blonde hair, tall stature and deep, yet feminine voice lends strongly to the impression that she could be a stand-in for Scarlett Johansson. She’s easy on the eyes and can be immediately recognized for the intelligent journalist she is from the words she chooses and delivers in a straightforward manner.
Who wouldn’t want to have their children resemble her?
Griffin was enticed to become an egg done for a number of reasons –some personal, some fiscal. She was just one of many women across the United States who were about to embark on the experience.
When she visited USF St. Petersburg to give a talk about the lengthy article she wrote for the Sarasota Herald-Tribune, she was happy to give details about the process for egg donation.
She said she first saw an advertisement seeking young female egg donors when she was a 19-year-old student at the University of Central Florida. Griffin was prompted by the loss of a childhood friend whose mother found healing by having another baby through in vitro fertilization (IVF).
About a year ago, Griffin decided to try out egg donation as a college graduate looking to settle debts and pay bills.
But as she would discover, “Five thousand dollars goes pretty fast.”
What’s more, is the complications Griffin encountered throughout the process. She has come out on the other side with a tale of caution – specifically to those who may also be drawn in by a large amount of money for a seemingly simple process.
She is concerned that young women, especially those in college, will be blindsided by the potential dangers of donating as they reach for quick cash. Companies seem to want women who have a college degree, or are on their way to one.
The donating schema from beginning to end takes about 3-5 weeks.
Justine Griffin’s ovary during a normal cycle before ovulation (top) and with enlarged eggs during hormone stimulation (bottom).
Women are given hormone shots that must be self-injected, first to halt their regular cycle, then to stimulate their ovaries to produce more eggs than the usual one. The donor and recipient are then matched up to ensure the eggs are ready by the time the recipient is fertile and ready for implantation.
Once this has been confirmed via ultrasound, the donor is given an hCG hormone that causes the eggs to fully ripen. The next step is the actual retrieval surgery, where the eggs are drawn out through a transvaginal needle while the donor is fully sedated.
Though it may seem medically sound and relatively quick, Griffin says otherwise.
She explains that the problem comes from the lack of sufficient studies and information on the short and long-term effects of the cocktail of chemical hormones pumped into women’s bodies.
A drug called Lupron is often implemented to suppress the donor’s natural cycle, but using it as such is an off-label approach –one that is not tested or approved by the FDA.
Lupron is designed and labeled to treat prostate cancer in men, premature puberty in children, and endometriosis in women. It essentially shuts down the body’s natural hormone-producing systems.
Gonadotropin, the hormone that causes donors to produce multiple eggs, can lead to hyperstimulation of the ovaries, which could result in cysts and even ruptures.
In Griffin’s case, a cyst formed and eventually ruptured, causing severe pain only seven days after her eggs were harvested.
The experience cost her a trip to the ER, causing her to develop a newfound fear of future health complications.
Ever since, Griffin’s menstrual cycle has been irregular. And, as she’s now finding out, some women become infertile after donating, which is possibly caused by the increase in hormones during the process. Griffin won’t learn the full effects of her donation until she attempts to have children of her own.
She appreciated the expertise and guidance of her OB/GYN, who she continued to see in addition to the doctor provided by the agency.
When Griffin asked the agency if it was typical for women to continue seeing their own doctors during the process, she was answered with a swift “No.” She quickly found out the donation company only wanted donors to be seen by its care providers, and no one else.
The agency’s doctor, however, refused to provide a standard ultrasound in her immediate post-op follow-up.
As her personal OB/GYN pointed out, had the agency doctor done that, he might have caught the cyst on her ovary before it reached the point of rupture.
The other side to the ordeal, as Griffin revealed, is the emotional cost to the donor – these are potential children, part of the woman’s DNA.
She had entered the process with the hope of being involved with the recipient parents and the surrogate who would carry her fertilized eggs, at least to the extent of having a few conversations.
When Griffin expressed these desires to the woman at the agency who orchestrated the whole affair, she was given repeated verbal assurances that her wishes would be honored.
In the end, none came to fruition.
The couple in Ireland who was to receive her eggs wanted no contact, and after an attempt was made, neither did the surrogate in Florida. But, this was only made clear after contracts were signed and the donation process was well underway.
When the eggs were harvested and Griffin awoke from the fog of sedation, she asked how many eggs there were.
When she heard the number, she was immediately disappointed. As an ideal donor, Griffin had the potential to produce 40 eggs – and only had five.
But what hurt worse than the surgery was the agency’s coldness, which made her feel more like a commodity than a person.
In the end, the experience proved to be emotionally taxing, not only for Griffin, but also for her mother and boyfriend who supported her throughout the process – even if they didn’t necessarily approve of her choice.
The idea of IVF becoming a trend for affluent, but infertile couples across the globe raises many ethical questions: Is it right to produce babies in a lab when there are children born without families to care for them?
Beyond that, the possibility of genetic tampering could lead to unforeseen consequences, both positive and negative.
Lastly, IVF is not cheap, costing an average of $20,000 to $40,000 for the procedure alone, which doesn’t include the cost of eggs, sperm and, if necessary, surrogacy.
Interestingly, it’s illegal to sell body parts in the United States –they must be donated– and money can only be paid as compensation for the donor’s time and discomfort.
Egg donors are typically given $3,000 to $10,000, but Ivy League graduates with model good-looks can command up to $50,000.
Some say that amount is beyond the “appropriate” limit, which begs the question: How can we put a price tag on women risking their fertility in the name of supplying someone else’s?
Justine Griffin’s in-depth coverage on egg donation can be read here.
