Yeah, seems a convenient declaration from a woman whose eggs suck! Seems a no brainer I'm saying this with such careless conviction. But you might agree I thought this way before I was told to find eggs from someone else's basket.
When 3 days after my 41st birthday I received a call from my Gyn that my FSH was 12.8, I did fast homework on what that meant before seeing my first RE a month later.
I'll never forget it, I sat in bed on Friday night and consumed every shred of anecdotal and scientific material Google could conjure up on high FSH in women beyond 40 and it wasn't good. Within hours I decided I wouldn't even try with my eggs. Invest wisely, I thought, and go straight for the good eggs. I wanted a baby MUCH more than I wanted genetic offspring.
One month later I walked into my first RE appointment and declared that I was only there to discuss a donor egg cycle. She talked me out of it and I still don't know how I feel about that. Listen, if it worked, I would have been thrilled that one round and minimal cost (relative to IVF of course) later, I wound up with a health baby (and it didn't hurt that it was my genetic offspring).
Maybe it's because I am an only child. Maybe it's because my mother was raised in an orphanage and didn't have deep-seeded feelings about "family." I don't know but I have just never felt strongly about genetics.
Maybe the kid who grew up with 8 siblings and dozens of cousins feels differently. But I'm not that girl. I'm the girl who doesn't care about DNA. What can I say? I feel grateful for that.
And it's not to say I don't think there's a difference. Of course there is. But I am pretty analytical about this stuff. The difference is the child won't have my full lips. Too bad, oh well, who cares? Yeah, you can't believe it but I don't. I never shed a tear, not a single tear over the idea of a non-genetic child.
I can't explain it very well but I can sum it up like this. You're pregnant - Woo Hoo! And you pray for a girl who has your husband's Irish genes with blue eyes and curly red hair. Months later you birth a boy with your grandmother's olive complexion, brown eyes and brown hair. That sure wasn't your "first choice," but are you any less happy? Any less in love? Any less over the moon? Will you raise your son thinking, He was not my first choice? Doubt it.
And that's the only example I can provide of how "second choice" isn't exactly second, rather just different. :)