Maybe naughty, but they are!

These were supposed to be ordinary holidays by the Polish seaside. Together with my husband and our little ones – Nadia, Boris, and Igor – we went to Gdańsk. Unlike ever before, I felt the need for rest. Organizing time with three children is quite a challenge. Three times more duties, homework, extracurricular activities, and on top of that, dinner fit for an army. I was exhausted.

To extend the joy of our planned vacation, every day I spent half an hour finding interesting places, tourist attractions, and restaurants that we should visit while in the Tri-City. Together with my husband (especially since we’re raising three troublemakers), we learned to appreciate the little things.

Finally, the day of our long-awaited departure arrived. Of course, it wasn’t without nerves. I packed suitcases for our foursome. Marcin – my husband, father, and tour guide – nervously answered the last work calls. After two hours, we finally set off. It seemed like the worst was behind us. Unfortunately, a crisis erupted in our family car near Łódź. Crying, arguing, and dissatisfaction.

Mruczek – Nadia’s eternal companion and “comforter” – stayed in an unmade bed since the morning. What now? We can’t turn back (although I must admit, that crazy thought crossed my mind). We tried to calm the situation, but the resentment and sadness combined with hunger and fatigue took their toll, and Nadia became increasingly irritable.

After another three hours of travel, we reached the hotel. I breathed a sigh of relief. First and foremost, we decided to go eat. Because we were a bit late, only steaks, beef in mushroom sauce, buckwheat, and a set of salads remained from dinner… Nothing our kids eat.

I started our arrival with a tantrum with the waiter. Distracted by producing more arguments, I lost sight of our group. After confronting the head chef and the dining room manager, I started looking for them. I saw an unusual sight. The whole trio was sitting nicely at the table, munching on pork chops with fries, which were served to them by a smiling brunette in a chef’s outfit.

Late in the evening, my husband and I went to the restaurant to have a long-awaited glass of wine. Once again, I saw the lovely brunette. My husband and I invited her to our table – Ewa, as it turned out, her name was, happily joined us. She began to praise our children. Polite, smart, and so joyful, she said. Polite? Lately, they’ve been terrible. They don’t respond to any requests! – I replied, annoyed. In that same moment, I felt a bit uneasy. Surprise and sadness appeared on Ewa’s face. I quickly realized that I had said something I shouldn’t have. “Maybe rude, but they are,” I heard in response.

During our vacation, we got to know Ewa’s husband. They confessed to us that for the past 3 years, they had been unsuccessfully trying to have a child. Recently, the doctor informed them that fertilization would only be possible using another woman’s eggs. The problem is, there are many women like Ewa, and too few donors.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. Thousands of thoughts occupied my mind. I never thought motherhood could be unattainable for someone. Boris and Igor appeared before our wedding. Nadia was planned by me. I wanted her, and after six months, I was already pregnant. Just like that.

I didn’t realize how lucky we are to have them. That same night, I started looking for information about egg donation. It turned out that being in my thirties with three children was not a barrier to sharing happiness with another woman. I filled out the application form.

Before checking out of the hotel, I shared this news with Ewa. She was sincerely moved. “You don’t even know how important this is for me,” she replied.

The way back looked completely different. Although Nadia tried to get out of her car seat and perform ballet on the back seat at all costs – I was calm and patient. Apparently ordinary holidays turned out to be a good school for tolerance and humility for me.

Two weeks later, I received a call from the infertility treatment clinic. The next day, I made an appointment. Then I underwent a series of important and specialized tests that I probably would never have done on my own. Firstly, because I simply wouldn’t have found the time. Secondly, I would never have allocated my monthly salary to tests and myself.

After about two weeks, I underwent the egg retrieval procedure. The doctor advised me to take care of myself and not to overexert. “No problem for a mother of three children,” I replied! After the procedure, apart from drowsiness and a slightly swollen stomach, I felt nothing. Nothing physically. Psychologically, I felt great. I felt like I had done something good. And that’s exactly how it was.