This is what I was going to write a few weeks ago:

IVF is Holland. My last quarter at the UW, my instructor in childhood mental disorders gave us a simple analogy on the first day. Imagine preparing and packing and learning to speak French because you're going to take your dream vacation to Paris. Now imagine when you get off the plain you discover you are in Holland. Holland isn't a bad place. It's just different. It's just not what you were expecting, or what you wanted. But you can still enjoy yourself, have a great time, and fall in love with this new country. Now imagine that Holland is a baby born with Down's Syndrome.

After a cooling off period, I realized that I would be ok with using a donor egg for In-Vitro Fertilization. I kind of surprised myself. I felt very comfortable with the decision once it was made. Eric agreed - we both wanted to try this before looking into adoption.

When I was in so much pain, a kind of sorrow that is different (not worse, just different) from any other, part of how I dealt with what was happening was ironic astonishment. If you had told me in high school, or even the first years of college, that I was going to want to have a baby, be told I couldn't conceive, and then I broke down and had a week-long emotional congress... That would have had me rolling on the floor, that's for sure. I imagined comparing IVF to Holland, but in my case, I felt there needed to be some tweaking.

As a girl, I decided I hated Paris. I was never going to go to Paris. Ever. As I got older, my conviction only got stronger. Paris, bleck. Grr! As an adult, I am introduced to a side of Paris I never knew before. I quickly decide I want to go to Paris. Paris requires money, and preparation. It took years to get everything together. But finally I'm on the plane with my Sweetie, and we're going to Paris! Yay! And then we get off the plane in the midst of a bunch of people speaking Dutch. No one is speaking French. There are tulips everywhere. Was that a windmill. Oh. My. God. I'm in Holland? Holland?! You've got to be shitting me?!?! Wait, doesn't Amsterdam have hash bars? Hmm. Maybe we're going to enjoy this just the same...

Yep, everything seemed very positive. And like less chance was involved, which was an unexpected comfort to realize. We gave blood, took tests, looked at donor sites, signed papers. And then another A-bomb fell from the sky.