A grade 1 expanded and a grade 2 expanding. There was a little snafu because the embryologist somehow thought I still had the Egyptian (part Turkish) donor, so there were some minutes of confusion until Cierra realized she had forgotten to give him the new paperwork. So. Embryos are still half Mexican, half Indian.
Cierra told me the Mexican donor thanked me for the book (The Prophet by Khalil Gibran), bookmark (it says “We are Stardust, Meant to Shine”), card, and dark chocolate with raspberry filling Godiva bar. Sweet of her to send the message on.
I’m watching funny cat and kid videos now because I read somewhere that laughter helps embryos implant. Can’t hurt, right?
Gotta be honest — after three transfers and three failures, it’s hard to feel anything other than matter-of-fact about this. But I think that’s an improvement over feeling constantly on tenterhooks. It’s like: OK, universe, I’ll do my thing and you do your thing, and that’s just how it is.
Heading to an Irish pub for Irish beef stew for dinner. Nice hearty welcome for the newcomers. I’m half Irish, and I’m sure I’ll feed them plenty of Mexican and Indian and Turkish food as well as the days go by, inshallah. And when they’re here, they can sample every cuisine imaginable.