I definitely still feel like I’m recovering. My body doesn’t feel like my own, it’s bloated and cramping and quite horrid. I’m in a lot of pain, but all of that is secondary. I’m waiting for the daily call as to how our embryos are going. It’s a rollercoaster of emotion: the nervous anticipation, the worry. The tense two minutes on the phone as you try figure out exactly what it means, trying to squeeze as much information out of an embryologist as you can.
I feel bad for them, they have to make these calls everyday to people as tense as I am - trying to understand each every little nuance, because the stakes are high - this is our future we’re talking about. The chance to have a family. It’s tense.
Our embryos are coming along, three are ahead (11 cells and 2x 10 cells) and two are bang on with eight cells. I worry. I worry I worry I worry. Having embryos develop quickly is not typically a sign of success. They’re over achievers that will burn themselves out before getting to blastocyst level. Please so down, little embryos. I want to you to survive.
It’s hard to hope. There’s nothing more I can do, I’ve done my bit. I’m trusting in a clinic and science and embryologists. I worry though - this is only their day job, but this is my life.