Mr DG (yes, he came along!) arrived at the clinic and we had only just sat down with a cuppa when we were whisked through. The embryologist was doing a happy little dance and fair chortling. Apparently our blasts were just beautiful, several great ones and two which were perfect. It had been a hard time choosing. When she had looked at them the night before, she’d been so excited, it had prompted the mid-evening progress call to Mr DG.
So it was into the room, and there they were up on the screen, with us all gazing awestruck and Mr R saying they were like a text book and they had already saved pictures of them for their own use (some sort of embryo-porn, I assume)
The embryologist pointed out the salient features and how one was getting ready to hatch, more pictures were taken, and then (I could sense her reluctance) she handed them over and Mr R popped them in.
I took advantage of the cosy couch in the rest area to snarf down an M&S wrap and catch up on my reading, then it was back to town for acupuncture treatment number 2. I am now ensconced on the bed. Mr DG and little DG seem to be hacking down the front garden with a chainsaw, by the sound of it and I intend to take it easy for 24 hours.
Hobbesy has been receiving text updates all day, and hopefully basking in the glory as “One who produces the best blastocysts”. Now all we need is for them (well, one of them!) to stick.