Dr. Wonderful called this morning.
"More good news, Jem. Of your 9 embryos, 5 are excellent, 1 very good, 2 fair/good, 1 poor.
"This means we won't do the transfer today, but will do it on Tuesday. I feel very optimistic about having two great blasts to transfer on Tuesday, but we'll just see how it goes. We'll freeze the rest on Day 6."
I asked him the actual classification of the embryos and he blew me off, which was a little annoying. "All you need to know is that 5 are excellent, excellent."
OK. I guess.
In any case, we are very, very happy with this news.
Other good news, I lost a little of my water weight today. I still super bloated. I feel more mentally "with it" today, which is good, as I've been in a bit of a hormonal fog. I'm even planning to take a quick walk around my little neighborhood this morning. Yesterday I was supposed to drive into San Francisco to have an abdominal massage, but Dr. Wonderful ixnay'ed that, as I'm so bloated. Plus, it would have been a total hassle with the Bay Bridge closed. I was happy to spend the day relaxing and watching TV and cuddling with Mr. Jem and the cats.
Mr. Jem is still in pain. He's been icing the family jewels since Thursday. Poor guy. It was clearly worth it for him to go through the biopsy, given his low sperm count.
Definitely worth it. It's still a bit surreal. Our babies are growing in a petri dish just 15 minutes drive from our house. Tuesday they will be in my body. It brings tears to my eyes to think about it. I've been avoiding thinking about it because I can't stand the thought of losing them, of this whole process not working.
When I was a child, an only child, my mother used to tell me about how she had a dream that I was calling down from heaven, telling her to go off birth control so I could come down to be part of her family. As much as I've meditated, prayed, talked about wanting a child, as an IF'er, I'm afraid to ask too much from the heavens, afraid to hope too much, afraid to have my heart broken. I'm also afraid I don't want this enough, as absurd as that sounds. Why haven't I had that dream? Does that mean it's not destined to happen to me? Of course, my grandma had my mom when she was 28, my mom had me when SHE was 28. I was single at 28.
How much does, "just because mom/grandma had this experience" count? My brain says, "not at all" because of the male factor IF. My heart cries out, "Everything! You're not going to have a child!" There's even a tiny part of me that blames Mr. Jem and his crappy sperm and crappy genes. Even though I had a bad taste in my mouth about using donor sperm if there was any chance we could use Mr. Jem's swimmers.
And then 5 minutes later I'm filled with hope and disbelief that this could be really happening. That pumping my body with hormones and cutting Mr. Jem in 6 different places - He's walking like a cow-boy! It's too cute - could really result in a little baby.
So many conflicting, painful, joyous, feelings.