I slept fitfully last night and woke up early. The trip to the clinic - on my own - was a nervous one. I kept expecting the call to tell me there was no need for me to come in after all.
When it didn't come, I thought they might have forgotten to call me.
One step in the door, so to speak, I asked a kind nurse to check for me. What a relief when she told there would be a transfer!
The transfer procedure was uneventful, if a bit uncomfortable (me there early, them behind schedule makes for a longer time with full bladder) and slightly embarrassing (are lab assistants bound by medical secrecy, because my privates feel rather unprivate right now).
Of the three embryos, two were of top quality and 1 of not-good quality. 1 top quality embryo was transferred, the other is now in the freezer (hopefully with the ambition of being The One that Survives the Thaw). I called my RE yesterday to discuss transferring one or two. He advised us to stick with the plan, and decide based upon quality. The somewhat low maturity rate of this batch, nor my flu-like symptoms (with no fever to speak of) shouldn't make us change our mind, he felt. So, DH and I decided to stick to the plan.
I must say, 2 good embryos out of a total of 3 is astonishing to me. I hadn't dared hope. Then again, not daring to hope has been my motto in all things reproductive since 2005.
I just hope that I didn't promptly eject the defenseless little embryo in the coughing fit I had just ten minutes after transfer. I believe I read somewhere that that isn't possible, but then why do they make you lie down afterwards for half an hour when all you want is to go to the bathroom?
Now back to what I've been practicing so much, crossing my fingers and twiddlng my thumbs. Care to join me?
Meanwhile, thanks for all your kind words of support, I needed those.