I was all excited last night because we got eleven eggs and surely, surely half of them would be ok, right? That'd be great.
Yeah, well, not so much. Five were mature. Only TWO fertilized.
Please don't give me the "Only takes one..." line. I know. I know. I know! We've been down to bare minimum (or so we thought) with Matthew and Luke and those embryos obviously were perfect.
But we had more to start with. More that we could bank on at least one or two making it to day three. Not so much this time.
Three more became mature overnight, and the amazing lab did a procedure where they basically tried to fertilize those as well. I won't know until tomorrow how the first two are doing (though initially looks are that they look good, thank God!) and how the other three are—whether they even fertilized.
So some prayers are appreciated...prayers that we have two, very clearly purposed embryos to transfer on Tuesday and that they stick around for a long time.
I'm going back to expecting it to be crappy. I don't mind writing about how I was wrong in those situations. I'm more than happy to eat humble pie if it means that I was pessimistic for nothing!
I don't love, however, writing about how wrong I was to be excited in the first place.