After the nurse told me that they got 18 eggs at my retrieval, I spent the rest of the day floating along on a fluffy little cloud of optimism. The next day, I got the call that there were 6 eggs developing normally. (I've been hesitant to put that number on my blog, because posting it makes it real, and it depresses me to know that 2/3 of my eggs were just no good) Still, I tried to stay optimistic. Fine, I won't be the next Michelle Duggar, but I can match the Bradys. If they all stayed on track, 2 embryos for the upcoming transfer, plus 4 to freeze wouldn't be too bad. The following week was torture for my impatient self. Patients at my clinic are told in writing not to call and ask about the progress of their embryos. I hated not knowing if my embryos were good quality, or if there were any embryos left at all.
At my transfer on Saturday morning the doctor whizzed into my curtained off area, handed me a photo of 2 embryos and said, "that's all there is, we'll do the transfer in just a few minutes" and then he was off. The transfer itself was uneventful. But the doctor left just as quickly as he came in, so I didn't get to ask about the quality of my embryos. Given that I went from 18 eggs down to just 2 embryos, I'm concerned that the quality is not so hot.
I realize that I am very lucky to have made it to the transfer stage of the game. I know that not everyone gets there, and I should be a bit more grateful. Try as I might, I can't fight the pessimism. It doesn't help that I don't have any symptoms yet. I'm driving myself crazy by googling 3dp6dt, where I find nothing but women talking about how they all had horrible cramps by now. And I've been googling blastocyst pictures, comparing mine to the ideal specimens featured on IVF websites. I'm convinced that mine look strange. I'm going crazy.
In order to prevent a google induced meltdown, I'm going to copy some of the other bloggers out there and beg for distractions. If anyone out there has any questions they want to ask, feel free to ask away!