The Embryo Transfer

Has it really been this long since I wrote on this journal? We had our embryo transfer on Thursday.  The doctor called me that morning and told me I had one early blastocyst and two "pre-blastocyst."  Two embryos of the original six had fallen out of the race by that point.  We decided to put two in. When I was getting ready to go, getting dressed, I put on my pants and thought, "I bet they're going to make me take these off again."  Couldn't I just once go to the doctor and not take my clothes off?  Or if I do, take my shirt off?  But not in this game. As usual, the worst part of the embryo transfer was having to go to the bathroom for an hour before they came in to do the procedure.  Just six days before, I'd been about 20 feet away from where I lay now, extremely hungry and thirsty.  I guess I can't win.  At least during this ET I didn't throw up 60 oz. of water like I did last time.  This new clinic only made me drink 32 oz., which my little belly is fully capable of holding.  Especially since they didn't also give me a valium. Although I have loved every bit of working with this new clinic, there was one thing I missed about my old one.  This time I had to ask for a picture of my baby embryos, and of course they were happy to oblige.  But at the last clinic they also took my camera back into the lab to photograph our petri dish in the refrigerator and other stuff from the little embies' early personal history.  At least I got a picture with the doctor.  Which I cannot use because it looks so bad of me!  Maybe I'll crop my face out and just show him leaning down over a generic gowned body. After the transfer we got me my McDonalds meal, this time a "Meal" (fries) with a sundae too.  I'm getting spoiled.  And then began my sentence.  This clinic actually defined bedrest, which was terrible.  They indicated that once I got in bed, I should stay there!  Not just avoid doing the laundry.  I mean, captivity. James and I had gotten a new metal bed the day before, and our room was half rearranged.  With his dresser in the closet (with the doors removed, waiting for a curtain) and my dresser still in its old position, which does not work well with the new "flow," I evaluated the room, slept, watched the TV perched on a make-shift table borrowed from the hall, and generally stayed put. When the time came to get up yesterday, I did so with great zeal, and came crawling back a few hours later.  It has taken all week for my embryo retrieval puncture wounds to heal.  But after all that resting, this morning I bounced out of bed.  I was going strong on housework and errands and all that until about 2:30, which is when I normally wear myself out on Saturdays. I'm trying to stay positive about this try.  It doesn't seem likely that I'll get pregnant, just because nothing has ever made me pregnant in the past, and I don't see why this time should be any different.  So I am appreciating the hell out of my "pregnant" state while I know the embryos are probably still there.  It's been just over 48 hours since they "came home," and by God, I've been constantly aware that they're with me.  I want to have appreciated every second of the time I have with them, me and the two kids.  And maybe one or both will want to stay, but in the meantime I feel like a family, with everybody here in this chair.