Sunday, March 24, 2013


Jake and I held our breath and grabbed for each other's hands when the embryologist came in to tell us about how our two soldiers fared over the last few days.  We had gotten past the point at which they would call and say "Don't come.  Both arrested," but for all we knew, we would still be putting in only one sickly looking embryo.  I braced myself for the worst and tried to keep breathing.

"As you know, two fertilized, and both look very good.  One has eight-cells, which is ideal, so I graded that a 6, our highest grade.  One has 9-cells, which might still be great, but because it's not the desired 8, I grade it a 5.  They both look very good."

It was at this point I started crying.  They're BOTH good?  We have TWO that look promising?  My terrible ovarian reserve didn't end up hurting us at all.  I couldn't even process my relief and gratefulness.  I had to restrain myself from kissing the doctor.  The fact that I was only wearing a sheet is probably all that kept me in that bed.

I love them so much.

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