That’s the number after yesterday’s ‘harvest’ – 8 were immature, 17 were fertilized with ICSI.
And now we wait to see if Tuesday or Thursday is transfer day.
I spent the better part of yesterday afternoon asleep and on the couch – exhausted and crampy. Luckily, this has been such a hectic week that I had much good TV on the DVR queue – and a book club book that I need to finish by Tuesday. Our cat (“the monster”) was thrilled I was home and found every possible way to step on my sore belly.
The nurse who called this morning with the retrieval results was very excited and optimistic, but I’m somehow not able to get there. It’s a beautiful day in Brooklyn. Crisp, cool air. Beautiful vegetables at the farmers’ market. My favorite season. DH home all day and no obligations for either of us to leave the neighborhood. I have work to do, but nothing burning. So what’s wrong?
Well, there was the front page article in the New York Times, a tough conversation with DH’s mom that made him upset — and just an unexplained, unsettled feeling.
But then again, there are 17 little fertilized eggs in a clinic in Manhattan. Maybe one is *the* one?