I should be off seeing galleries, or movies, or walking briskly through the wintery countryside right now, to keep my mind off that little two-cell embie in a dish at the clinic. Or maybe he/she is four-cell by now, or dare I hope, six-cell. Waiting to see if he/she can tough it out until transfer is excruciating.
Of course I am not doing any of that healthy stuff while waiting. I am obsessing. Cruising the web looking for a visual timeline of embryo development so I can imagine my own little embie, and cheer him or her on.
I found this image (left) which shows development in the early days. All of our hopes are riding on something that looks like box number three on the top row, or maybe box number one on the bottom row.
IVF has really reinforced for me what a miracle it is each and every time someone has a baby. Unlike natural conception, where someone pees on a stick and then thinks, “Gee, how did that happen?”, IVF patients live every single stage of development. We cheer on our ovaries, our partner’s sperm, our follicles, our eggs, and if we are lucky enough, our tiny invisible-to-the-human-eye embryos. Each stage represents possibility and hope.
I am daring to hope now that our single embryo can reach eight-cell by tomorrow, or even just last until tomorrow, and then I will be cheering on my uterus and hoping it’s a beautiful friendly homely sort of place the embryo will take to.