Four days until we meet our last waiting ones, our last snowflakes. For a while there, I kept telling people I was terrified of this final embryo transfer. And then, after some contemplation, I realized I'm not.
I am not terrified.
I am not exactly sure what I am. Resolute is the word that keeps coming to mind, but I've rechecked the dictionary and that word doesn't quite fit.
I have hope. Not excessive hope, I don't see things through rose colored lenses. But I do believe that these embryos will complete our family. For a while, until I get the adoption bug again.
I have courage. Sometimes it's hard to march back into the same situation, in this case the clinic, when the prior three times have not ended as desired. I am moving forward. And with a smile. It may be a teeny tiny little Mona Lisa smile, but by golly, I will smile and go forth with cheer.
I have respect. For the genetic parents who chose to give up their remaining embryos in hopes of fulfilling another couple's dreams. For the adoption agency, for believing these embryos are worthy of life. For Bryan, for walking down this road of hopes and dreams, again.
I have been busy and that's helped limit my daydreaming. Don't know if anyone else is like this, but whatever I daydream never comes to fulfillment. So for now, I limit myself to one of two scenarios. A negative. And a positive yielding triplets. Both situations are possible, though I'd like to think highly unlikely. And, honestly, after the length of this road, part of me (perhaps the less sane part) would welcome triplets. (The sane part would be hyperventilating into a pillow.) Statistically, since we're transferring two embryos, triplets are possible if one of the two embryos splits. Not altogether unheard of, but extremely rare.
A negative is a real possibility too. I recognize that. I don't want it, but I name it as a possibility. For the sake of transparency with myself, I have to admit that a negative could happen.
I guess in some small way maybe I am finally learning to put my hopes fully in God? With each of our last three transfers, I always had that back up plan - we can use the remaining set of embryos, or rematch. I still exerted some miniscule amount of control on the situation. But now, we're done. This is it and there's nothing I can do except pray and follow my drug protocol.
One startling aspect: my type-A brain might actually be more relaxed in totally relinquishing control to God.
"Dash" and "Violet", we'll meet you soon. Your first parents love you. We love you. See you Monday, little ones.