The D&C went smoothly – easily, in fact.  

Though I nearly lost it on the poor nurse who, after determining that my last period began in February, insisted that I pee in a cup.  Seriously.  ”Um, we already know I’m pregnant.  Sort of.  Have you read my chart?  I’m here for a D&C.  It’s not like the anesthaesia is going to hurt my baby.  Baby’s dead.”

“Yes, dear, but we still have to do it.”

You’ve got to be shitting me.

She wasn’t.  I peed in a cup.  And they did, indeed, determine that I was, in fact, pregnant.  And they took the necessary precautions.  Can I scream now?  How about now?

But I got through it just fine with the help of my good doctor.  He came up to me while I was still sleepy (read: “still completely looped”) and told me that he was more sorry than he could express that we had had to go through this again.  Said he’d call me with the results of the testing so I could move on as soon as possible.  He is a kind man.  It makes me feel guilty & sad that we almost certainly won’t be going through his clinic for the next step in our process.  I wish I could take him with me, or use him as my regular doctor.  As much as I wish things had been different, I do believe he gave me the best possible care at all times.  Not his fault that my eggs are faulty.

Which reminds me – as soon as the results of this testing are in, I’ll need to get copies made of my file – a file roughly the size of a Stephen King manuscript.  Seriously, nurses need to use two hands to hold my “chart”.  That sucker’s massive…

The boy is seeming more interested in a donor egg cycle than I’d feared he might be.  He seems to be right on track with what I’m thinking, and his odds’ calculating mind just loves the “live baby in 6 tries or your money back” concept.  I love it too, since it suits our purposes just fine – we will not have more than one child, so I have no desire for a bank of frozen embryos in waiting.  (In fact, that’s the only qualm I have about moving straight to a DE cycle.  I’ve still got those frozen embryos and it’s going to be weird to not have them transfered.  If I thought anyone would want to “adopt” ‘em, I’d be thrilled, but I don’t think they’re even going to want to do research with ‘em.  They’ll probably just get dumped if I release them, and I think I might have a hard time doing that.  Which is weird.  I don’t think they’re babies.  I don’t mind the idea of them being USED for something important like research.  I just don’t want them to be completely devalued even though I pretty much completey devalue them.

Re-reading that, I realize that it makes no sense at all.  Going to claim that I’m still loopy from the anesthesia and try to get a handle on what I mean by that statement before I say any more about it.  

I have decided to be really excited about using young-thang eggs for the so-much-reduced risk of trisomies.  How pleasant to not have to absolutely dread the mid-pregnancy testing rounds that I’d've been submitted to as a WAMA (Way Advanced Maternal Age) patient.  And, you know, given my ova-luck, if I’d produced a proto-sprog that survived past, you know, nine weeks, with my luck I would be one of that unlucky 2% of women my age carrying a baby with Downs.  Or in the unluckier 1% who miscarry a perfectly healthy baby after a testing amnio.

So three cheers for reduced risks there, with a just-past-the-age-of-consent donor, I can probably get away with just the non-invasive blood work!  And the boy thinks we should be up-front about donor status from the beginning so we don’t have to try to match my very rare blood type.  Which is good.  I think we’re going to move forward on this, and I think it’s going to work.  I really do.

And I know I made the right call with this D&C.  This took such a load of misery off of me, that I can barely express it.  Hope I never have to go through this again, but if I do, an early D&C was the way to go.  

I’m rambling here.  Probably still a bit more looped than I think.  Thank you all for your good thoughts.  I really am fine.  Better than I’d thought I’d be, actually.  Wednesday was such a shitty, fucked-up day that I thought I was going to be a wreck today, but I’m not.  I just want more coffee.  (Ok, and maybe some more of whatever that was in the IV, but I don’t think they sell that at the corner bakery.  The bodega one block over, maybe, but not at the bakery.)

On to my second cup of caffeinated poison for the afternoon…