Where will the time go?

I need a plan.  Just two days into the two week wait, my mind is already restless.  This morning, I've come up with some goals to help me get through the days.

Goals:
1.  Do not read blogs or forums re: early pregnancy symptoms.
(This can really mess with my mind - desperately seeking signs leads to nothing more than torture)

2.  Do not take an early pregnancy test.
(It may be positive, it may be negative; but, I'm not really going to believe anything until the doctor tells me so)

3.  Read this book.
(I'm told it'll make me laugh)

4.  Finish this project.
(Clearly it still needs some work)

5.  Make some dinners.
(H and I will do this together so I'll look forward to coming home to cook)

6.  Go back to work.
(As long as I'm productive and focused)

7.  Plan home improvements for my mom's visit next week.
(Pretty sure it's going to be project window treatments)

8.  Go to the new Courthouse movie theatre.
(You get to reserve your own seats!  Those who know me, understand the importance of this, since more than a time or two, I've ditched sitting with friends, so that I can sit middle seat, middle row at the movies)

9.  Try Yoga
(This is H's idea.  I'll give it a whirl and hope it doesn't bore me to tears)

10.  Learn photoshop
(This may also require I take the camera out - need warmer weather please!)

11.  Have positive thoughts
(esp about our embryo)

 This is a good start, but I'm accepting any and all ideas should you have one.

Make a Wish.

It's Super Bowl Sunday, better known around here as Transfer Sunday.  Our morning started off with an update from the doctor.  We had one embryo make it to the blasto-cyst stage.  The other three have stalled.  It isn't likely they'll make it much further and aren't (as of today) good candidates for freezing.  We'll know for sure on Tuesday.  We were surprised to hear that, but it isn't unexpected.  It's also part of the reason we waited five days; to find the most viable embryo.  On a happier note, our blasto-cyst is as good as can be expected.  Grade AA, the doctor said (H called it organic, free range).  It was recommended, and we agreed, to only transfer one embryo - our all star. 

I was expecting the transfer to start off rocky, given how the mock trial went.  But, thankfully, this doctor had no trouble at all getting my testy cervix to cooperate.  The transfer is done through a catheter.  H and I could watch it enter the uterus on the ultrasound.  When the doctor was sure the catheter was positioned well, he asked the embryologist to enter the room with our blasto baby.  The embryo was in a straw like contraption that was placed into the catheter.  Liquid carries the embryo and the doctor launches it out of the straw and into my uterus.  The embryo is too small to see, but when the liquid exits it looks just like a streak of light.  Weeks and weeks of preparation and worry and excitement and a whole list of other emotions went shooting out into my uterus in less than five seconds.  The doctor asked if I saw it ... the shooting star.  "Yes", I said, "and I made a wish."

Afterward, I had to lay there for 5 minutes before I could get dressed and leave.  H  held my hand and laid his head on my stomach.  We feel a connection to our little blasto baby.  We want the best for it.  We will have to wait at least two weeks to find out what's next for our family.  In the meantime, we have to remind ourselves that we've done well, come a long way, and tried our best.  We're proud of our journey and of our embryo, no matter what.

(my view from mandatory bed rest - a magnetized photo of our little star)

I think the embryo wants a fruit shake.  Time to place an order with H.  Bed rest isn't so bad!  Oh, and go Niners!

Voice mail

Ever since cell phones became all the rage, I've been really terrible about keeping mine with me and/or keeping it charged.  I'm not a person who spends much time on the phone.  I never cared much if I had my cell on me or not.  Having an iPhone has helped - love the apps (still not wild about talking on the phone).  When IVF started, and the highly anticipated calls were coming almost daily, I became much better about having my phone handy.  Until yesterday, that is, when I walked out of the office with my iPhone still on my desk.  H offered to bring me back to grab it, but figuring the nurse calls have been coming at 1130am as of late, I didn't think it was a big deal.  I'd be to work in time to receive the call.  Wrong.  Of course this is the morning that our doctor phoned.  She left a voice mail at 8:37am.  Shoooooot!  Voice mail is the worst because you miss the chance to speak with the doctor directly (and I've alluded to how giddy that makes me - see "And then the doctors came.") and you don't get to ask all the questions that have been on your mind.



Such is life; maybe I can dump my questions on the nurse later.  Here's a transcription of our doctor's message:

"Hello [M] and [H].  Just wanted to call and say hello.  It's Dr. X.  I am thrilled your embryos are still doing lovely.  We want to see that they are developing and today they should be a minimum of six cells.  So, we have three embryos that are doing outstanding; one's a six cell, one's a seven cell, and one is an eight cell.  All three of those are grade one top quality embryos   The fourth embryo has gotten a little delayed, it was a three cell yesterday, it is still a three cell today.  But, I'm thrilled for the three that are developing well.  This will hopefully give us the ability to be able to select the single best embryo for transfer on Day 5.  I hope you're both well, just wanted to give you the update and this is wonderful news.  We'll catch up soon.  Bye bye."

There you have it - that's the latest.  I imagine that our three growing embies are jumping for joy at the chance to be a life.  I wish I knew the end of this story, but I have at least two weeks of waiting left.  Until then, I'm keeping this vision in my mind: