This is pure update, nothing profound. Since I splashed my doomsday depression all over the blogosphere for the past week, I felt I should ante up with the info. Here is the blast report from last night.
I had five blastocysts that developed to biopsy:
* Two developed to grade 3ab on day 5 (the best in the batch)
* One developed to 5ba on day 6
* One developed to 3bb on day 6
* One developed to grade 2/3 (somewhere between stage 2 and 3, an “early blast” that doesn’t yet have a trophectoderm or inner cell mass defined enough to evaluate but that had enough cells to do the biopsy) on day 6
They are watching four until today (day 7) but those are long-shots. These are their grades as of yesterday:
* Two 3bc
* One grade 2
* One that was still pre-morula
CCS test results will be back within 2 weeks. B got home from work around 4:30. He and I were hunkered down under a blanket, and I kept thinking of these lines from 1984
“There were times when the fact of impending death seemed as palpable as the bed they lay on, and they would cling together with a sort of despairing sensuality, like a damned soul grasping at his last morsel of pleasure when the clock is within five minutes of striking. But there were also times when they had the illusion not only of safety but of permanence.”
…because I honestly could not rationalize why this phone call would sound any different than any other phone call I’ve ever received from a fertility clinic or that some magical thing would happen to change the outcome of these treatments from the embryos I have produced every other time I’ve tried. But something magical did happen. I made blasts on time. How? Why? Was it the sperm or the growth hormone or the lab? I can’t say, but it’s miraculous. Right now I just want to swim around in that since it’s such a rare treat in my world.