16 Cells.

I am endeavoring to type this while flat on my back, keyboard near my chin, so please forgive any errors.

This afternoon we transfered two embryos: one a 7-cell, one a 9-cell.

I was under the impression that even, rather than odd, numbers of cells are to be preferred, but I shan’t quibble. Both were grade two—our clinic grades from one to four, with one being the highest. The remaining 15 embryos will be watched for two days and any suitable specimens frozen. My clinic freezes only grade one or grade two embryos, and we transferred our two best, so we shall see.
The transfer itself was somewhat painful, involving multiple catheter changes and causing quite a bit of excitement. Once again my anatomy elicits consternation and awe among medical professionals: apparently there is a right angle in my uterus, forming part of a “C” shape around which the catheter had to be threaded. Dr. Bowtie, with his vaginal-spelunking headlamp on, eagerly called the medical student over for a look, pronouncing my uterus and cervix “unusual,” which I believe is a synonym for “moderately deformed.” So yes, the transfer was uncomfortable, and I am even now quite crampy, which of course sent me into paroxysms of despair because of articles like this.

For now I am relaxing and plying my potential progeny with macaroni and cheese and intramuscular shots of progesterone. My betas are scheduled for next Wednesday and next Friday, but I will not get the results until after the second draw. Of course I plan to start testing at home absurdly early (probably Sunday) in order to watch the trigger disappear and see if anything takes its place, because I have always preferred the slow dwindling of hope to the dramatic and devastating reveal. And of course, it might be positive, and I’ll gnaw off my own right breast (quite a feat, really) before I wait ten whole days for the lab techs to give me the news.

Our clinic does not give out pictures of the embryos transfered, but they do usher you into the lab to look at them under a microscope, and I say this, I promise, with scientific dispassion: our embryos are the most beautiful embryos that ever underwent meiosis. Of this I am certain. They were petite, well-behaved, symmetrical—and brimming with personality.
I am dangerously besotted with them already.