3/4 Dozen

Friday morning I had an egg retrieval. It went about as well as possible - they got 9 eggs.

Health policy wonk that I am, I had an extensive conversation with the Anesthesiologist about his native Sweden's health care system. I then remained awake for the procedure (a first) which was both fascinating and uncomfortable. Turns out both Chris and I were trying to decipher what the doctor, nurse and lab tech were telling one another as they worked.

This afternoon Jill called to let me know that if for some reason none of the eggs work out, we can use our frozen ones.  This is something I had asked my doctor about earlier this week, but I think he was not clear what I was asking, and I got a confusing answer about exogenous estrogen.  (Now there's something to say five times fast: exogenous estrogen, exogenous estrogen, exogenous extra... oh crap.)

So, we are on for a Monday transfer, and if I can get it together I might actually feel hopeful about it.

Since earlier this week when I was told there were three eggs and the cycle might be cancelled, I have assumed the worst. This not-entirely effective self-protective measure is one I slip into easily.  Several people have recently suggested I could be more hopeful, including an old friend who noted that I could put off worrying for a bit.  The worry will be there later. He has a point, and while I won't be counting any chickens yet, I can certainly give the Eeyore routine a rest for a bit. 

In the mean time I have a brunch, a wedding and a birthday party to look forward to. And delicious mozzarella-tomato sandwiches for dinner. That alone is enough to make me do a happy little jig.