These five days. These bloody fives days.
I hate them. every. single. time. The stress and anxiety and mind games.
I have to keep reminding myself that these aren’t my eggs.
These aren’t your eggs. These aren’t your eggs. These aren’t your eggs.
My doctor called me on Saturday morning at 9:11 to tell me that four eggs had fertilized normally.
“But aren’t they all supposed to fertilize?” THIS IS DONOR EGG!!!
His short answer was no, and that we are on track with average statistics … and average is okay in this situation. I could hear the smirk in his voice. My incessant strive for perfection hasn’t even gotten passed blessed Dr. Levens.
I wasn’t thrilled with this report, but what the fuck are you going to do, right?
Yesterday morning, at 9:20-something, a lovely woman called me to say that my embryos look great and we’re headed for a 5-day transfer.
I asked her about the cell division and fragmentation.
1 3-cell with 10% fragmentation
2 4-cells with 0% fragmentation
1 5-cell with 0% fragmentation
I was nervous as hell this morning, anticipating a phone call shortly after arriving to work. But it never came. The nerves calmed down a bit, then I decided to call my nurse just 30 minutes ago.
And here it is ladies …
1 6-cell with 5% fragmentation
1 8-cell with 5% fragmentation
1 PERFECT 8-cell
1 12-cell with 5% fragmentation
I mean, what can I say?