Weekend

It's been one hell of a weekend.

Friday: Saturday:


I know I am biased, because she's my daughter, but I will love this picture forever. It feels like a portrait of childish exuberance.

Some friends who were busy getting married and having a baby last year rented out a summer camp for the weekend to celebrate with friends and family. There was a parade.

The parade, with costumes, musical instruments, hordes of children, was great. Almost as good was the hour and a half I spent in a field reading the latest New Yorker while Ada napped in a nearby cabin.

Sunday:

Near the elevators at my doctors' office.

To be fair, Chris and I did spend part of Friday and Saturday discussing how many embryos to have returned to my uterus. I even found cell reception at the top of a hill and talked to the doc on call about the decision. But it came down to Sunday.

How many eggs the doctors recommend depends on several factors: (1) no previous failed IVFs (nope); (2) good quality eggs (yup); (3) having more eggs than you need, so you can freeze some (yes, a few). Six of the seven eggs looked good, which is great, but made it hard to tell we had a good chance of achieving a pregnancy with only 2 eggs implanted. Two might not be enough, but the chance of multiples goes up with 3.

Did I want a baby or fear twins more? In the end my emotional response remained the same, but my logical mind won out. We had two eggs implanted. Was it the right decision? Who knows. All we can do now is wait, and hope.