I find this whole egg donor process absolutely amazing. What’s even better is that the few people that I have confided in about our little adventure feel the same way. I received a couple of sweet emails this week asking me, so, um, what’s happening in maybe baby land? reminding me to share a little more with you.
The answer right now is not much. In twelve days I go for a hysterosalpingogram, HSG for short. My gynecologist will meet me at the local hospital, inject dye through a long needle into my uterus and then take a series of X-rays to see if there is anything that would prevent a fertilized egg from finding a nice, cozy home there.
I’ve been told that there will be some cramping and bleeding and my gyn strongly suggested I start the day with some breakfast and a substantial dose of Advil. Swell. I am sure that I will be in the best of spirits as I sit through a three-day long Board of Directors strategic planning retreat which begins just a few hours after my procedure.
On the other side of things, our donor is going through the rest of her screening process. More tests, more appointments. After our frustrating visit to the genetic counselor I felt incredibly bad knowing our donor would have to sit through the same thing. Sorry donor.
You know, 19 years ago, after I had finished my chemo and radiation and it was pretty obvious that both had made me infertile, my doctor would tell me things like, They told my mother she couldn’t have children after her appendectomy and she popped out three of us! and, With all the advances in science and medicine, you really don’t know what options will be available to you by the time you want to have children.
The first statement I believe was more of a warning against unprotected sex because I would hear it well into my twenties. The second I think was meant to console my parents more than me because frankly what 13 year old gives a crap about having babies?
19 years later, whodathunk my kind doctor was right?
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