Anniversary

One year ago today, at around 11 am, Dr. Beth called me from her car to let me know that of the two fertilized eggs we had made, one of them had stopped growing. Leaving the other, which on day 3 was only five cells big, and was grade B/C quality as far as its fragmentation goes. Dr. Beth wasn't sure it would be worth transferring, and suggested I could let it go until day 5, and if it made it that far, we could freeze it and do genetic testing which would then - maybe - tell us why none of my IVF cycles ever worked.

"You know what," I said. "I'd rather transfer it."

Up to me, said Dr. Beth. And later that afternoon, transfer it we did. I asked to be sedated while it happened, so that everything would be as smooth and comfortable as possible. A friend walked me home, which was literally around the corner. I believe I spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, though I don't remember. This blog would probably tell me.

Today, as I think about this, and the advice I was given, and think about Succotash napping in my arms this morning, grumpy because he wants to sit up on his own but hasn't quite gotten it together yet, but almost, I find that if I dwell too closely on how narrowly we missed being robbed of Succotash at all, and how I cannot imagine how that could be so, and cannot accept it, then I will start to cry in this library carrel where I am supposed to be doing work.