No. 9

It was embryo No. 9 who proved himself to be the strongest on day 5, so he got the proverbial nod for transfer and is currently kicking back in my uterus.

The transfer was successful, and 'easy' according to the specialist who did it (He didn't have have a tray of surgical instruments up his yoo-hoo at the time though) and it was heart-breakingly amazing to see our little embryo snuggled in my uterus on the ultrasound afterwards. Of course, he's only about the size of a full-stop at the moment, so it was more the pocket of protein enriched fluid that he was sitting in that was really visible, but he was there and we saw him and we'll never forget it. We were both a bit bowled-over to actually ask to a picture of it though. We remembered in the car on the way home. Woops.

I managed, barely, not to wee myself. It was a closer call that I'd have liked though. It's not easy keeping your legs crossed (figuratively speaking) when you've got a litre of water wanting to escape and things pressing on your bladder from all directions. We really don't want to do that again.

And now, it's couch rest for the next few days. Yesterday, once I got home from the hospital, I only moved for loo-stops and spent the entire day and evening otherwise prostrate on the couch under a feather blanket, topped with a wool blanket, topped with the cat. It wasn't hard to stay put though - I was cramping constantly and badly (my body is apparently getting a tad pissed off with frequent invasive procedures. I can't say I blame it really), but today it's easing which is a relief. I'm still not going far from the couch though. The slightest twinge and I'm flat-out and trying to think relaxing thoughts (which mostly revolve around thinking about new shoes ... but stopping short of the imaginary price tags).

The general plan from here? To make things as homey as possible for No. 9 and keep him happy so he decides to stay (but not so happy that he decides to divide in two. Or more). It's a very serious business, this looking after No. 9 - I've even been eating carrots (among other things. He seems to like salt & vinegar chips, but he's only been allowed a few so far) so he gets lots of vitamins and minerals.

I had a blood test this morning to make sure that all my hormone levels are as they should be for this stage of the game - I haven't heard anything from the hospital and they were going to ring if anything was off-key, so it seems that all is well in that direction which is an enormous relief (the danger of hyper-stimulation is still there, but good bloods at this point are a good sign).

The specialist told me yesterday that the embryo will be talking to me over the next few days, so I've got to listen to him and talk back, so, despite feeling like a complete ass, I've been doing exactly that. I've even been watching my language. Who knows whether one of those little cells we could see might be an ear eventually? Thankfully though I was the only one in my car on the way home from my blood test this morning and no one else heard me telling my stomach for the better part of half an hour all about its new family and all the things we're going to do when it's born (which does not include playing with staplers until he's a bit older).

I have no idea whether the specialist meant talk to him literally of course, I'm just not taking any chances.

As for the other embryos, this is how it worked out on the wash ...

No. 1 had passed on to the big petri dish in the sky by yesterday.

Nos. 2, 5, 7, 10 and 11 passed on to the big petri dish in the sky overnight.

Nos. 3, 4, 6, 8 and 12 (GO Rupert!!) have been frozen.

So, one in processing and five on ice.

And a partridge in a pear tree.