And down we go
The news today, it wasn't good--not quite the prime number I was dreaming of. After examining the eggs, the embryologist found that only ten were mature; after ICSI, only seven fertilized. Still, seven is better than three, and I am trying to take comfort in it, cold as that comfort may be.
Jeff took the call this morning--I couldn't handle the strain--and I knew from the sound of his voice in the other room that the results weren't great. The embryologist told him we'd decide on Saturday how agressive to be, once he finds out how well they're dividing, but that we might want to start thinking about a higher number. I take it this means that the egg quality is doubtful, and that we might as well go all-out.
I started to have some extravagant notions--lots of good eggs, lots of good embryos, plenty to freeze, maybe even a pregnancy--and I guess I should've known better than to get so far ahead of myself.