No news is good news, until it is good news

In a long-planned celebration of his return from the dearths of sobriety, my husband (who I've decided to refer to as "T" from now on, as one runs out of ways to refer to him - and I refuse to use "DH") is on a day-long drinking extravaganza with his guys.  We normally have his daughter on Saturdays, but decided to switch to tomorrow since we didn't know in advance the state of mind I'd be in today.

I dropped T off at his friend's house mid-morning (there was no way in hell I was letting him near a car today) and went off for one of my awesome little pleasures -- seeing a movie by myself.  I know some people think that is weird, but I honestly love nothing more.  It's a good excuse to see movies that T has no desire to see ("The Vow" was today's outing) and I can stuff my face full of popcorn and candy with abandon. 

I settle into my seat at the 11:05 showing surrounded by goodies, and reach for my phone to put it on vibrate.  I set it on the armrest while I search my purse for my work blackberry to do the same thing.  The previews had now started, so I was raring to go.  All of the sudden my phone lights up and vibrates, and my clinic's name pops up on the caller ID.

I almost immediately burst into tears.  I spoke to a nurse yesterday to get another prescription for the vaginal pill I accidentally took the day of retrieval.  She reminded me that they'd call me if there was an issue, but if I didn't hear from them, I'd show up on Monday for the transfer.  I was very hesitant and reminded her how worried I was given all of our hope was in Artie and Herkie only (most people have 6 or more embryos dividing away in the hopes that 1-2 are good enough for transfer).  She said not to worry (easy for her to say) and that they would call if there were issues.

And they were calling.  I debated sending it to voicemail, but realized I really needed to hear it live.  I picked up the phone and whispered for the caller to hang on a second, and literally sprinted out of the movie theater, leaving my purse and popcorn and candy and drinks behind.  I reached the hallway where you walk in and sat on the floor to prepare for the bad news.

And then she says she knew that I was worried, and she was just calling to say that BOTH embryos look great.  They are exactly where you want embryos to be on Day 3.  Which means they probably look something like this (these are not ours):

Good day 3 embryos have 7-9 cells that are ideally fairly uniform in size and not fragmented.  Apparently Artie and Herkie are right there.

I blubber thank you to the awesome nurse about 50 times and run back to my seat (that mother-daughter pair behind me looked like purse looters to me).  I know all phones should be put away at this point, but I hunker down, half-crying, and manage to text T.  He responds immediately to tell me that he is smiling big time and very happy.  I'm sure the drinking that had already occurred didn't impact that giddy feeling at all :)  I'm honestly on this euphoric high that I can't get off of right now.

That being said, there is still a ways to go.  Embryos can arrest on day 4 or 5 before transfer and we still may not make it that far.  And of course, embryos that are transferred may not result in a pregnancy.  But we are not at those days.  We are at day 3, and day 3 is pretty freaking awesome.

As a side note -- THANK YOU to all of you that have reached out with your texts/emails/calls to provide support.  It was a huge debate to start this blog to begin with, because neither of us was sure that we wanted all sorts of people in our biz-nass.  But I can't even tell you how much it has meant to T and me that we have so many friends and family rooting for us.  And please know that we return the favor for all the events in your lives as well.  We love you immensely.