The Transfer

Last Thursday, we went in for the embryo transfer. Upon admission, I was given a stunning backless gown, hair net, and some fuzzy slippers, and all sorts of instructions as to what we should expect during the procedure and what kinds of activities I should avoid over the next few days (like work, seriously - as if I could avoid that.) I signed a bunch of important papers, popped a Valium, and tried to relax while we anxiously awaited the Embryologist's report on the thaw of our embryo. When she arrived, she was happy to report the good news - the first TWO embryos selected, had thawed successfully and had received excellent ratings. I thought maybe I heard wrong. Until I saw this:

Count 'em. One. Two.

Someone screwed up. Our wishes to conservatively transfer one embryo at a time had been miscommunicated, or perhaps, not communicated at all, and now we were faced with another decision - to select the healthiest looking one and attempt to refreeze the other, or transfer both of them and take a chance of ending up with two babies. My doctor came in after a little while and sat next to me on my bed, apologized for the error, and tried her best explain our options and to ease our concerns. Refreezing would be risky, and the likelihood of twins was still slim. Her recommendation was always to use two, and so we agreed. I asked if this had earned me two Valium - was told "No," but maybe two baby gifts. Sean kept reminding me to stay calm, that his babies would need a peaceful womb.

So, the thing that finally did relax me was the realization of what little control I had. And that if I am blessed with two healthy babies, it was all part of a greater plan. Whoa. And the end of my life as I know it.

The transfer was quick and painless. Implantation occurs, or doesn't, within 36 hours. And the pregnancy test is Saturday. Y'all wish me luck!