Hostess with the Mostest

So, I'm laying in the procedure room today, looking up at the ceiling, clutching two photographs to my chest. One picture is Daniel, smiling like the miraculous angel that he is, while the other picture represents my hope for the future. Two embryos, thawed earlier this morning, ready for implantation. In the photo, they are two grayish-brown blobs that look exactly like what you would see in a biology textbook. The embryologist tells me they are high-quality blastocysts, numbers 5 and 6, and that one has already started to hatch. It is 2:15 in the afternoon, Dr. Sobel (or "George Clooney look-alike" as I like to call him) is inserting a catheter into my unmentionable parts, my bladder is filled to the brim, harp music is being piped in through the sound system, and all I can think of is, "Haven't I been here before?"

We did this same IVF tango last October, with no success. So I vowed to do everything differently this time: Starting with announcing to the world that I was going through IVF. I've done 5 months of acupuncture, eaten my fruits and veggies, cut out all alcohol and caffeine, and spent the week leading up to the transfer trying to reduce stress to a minimum. Will it work? Who knows. I still have about a 50-50 shot at becoming pregnant. But whatever happens, at least I'll know that I did everything in my power to achieve a positive outcome. And now, it's in God's hands.

So, what now? I'm playing human incubator to two potential human beings. They have to decide if my womb is an hospitable enough environment. Whether or not they want to stick around. I won't know their final decision for 2 weeks. Until then, I wait. I rest and relax, catch up on my reading, watch some movies On Demand, and pray. For a positive phone call on December 15th. For the strength to move on with my life if that phone call is negative. For the ability to appreciate my blessings no matter what the outcome. It has been a long, difficult journey. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.