In which my anxiety gets the better of me

Anxious thoughts have begun spinning around in my mind as this week has progressed. They seem to be dividing as fast as my embryos (hopefully) are.

Thoughts like:

What if the embryologists forget to culture my embryos to day 7?

Maybe I should call to remind them.

If I call to remind them, maybe it'll annoy them and then they won't do as good of a job.

But maybe if I don't remind them they'll forget entirely.

Maybe if I call to remind them it'll piss them off so much they'll spit in the petri dish out of spite or something, like a waiter spits in your soup if you're a bad customer.

That's silly! They wouldn't do that, but still, better to not annoy them.

Except that they might forget. What if they forget? (repeat loop, starting with thought #2)

Today is Day 6 after my egg retrieval. Gulp. I am covered in a rash that is either the result of my sky high hormone levels or an adverse reaction to one of the medications I am still taking. Which is unfortunate because I have to go to a work-related rooftop cocktail party in an hour and my chest and neck look like I've been attacked by a swarm of bees. Since it's pretty hot outside, covering up is not so much an option. Despite that, I'm going to wear a light sweater anyway. I don't want to frighten people, for gosh sakes! But anyway, I have bigger issues to worry about.

Like what's going on with my embryos!

I ended up caving and emailing the wonderful genetic counselor earlier today (can we all say reassurance seeking?). And she spoke to the embryology lab on my behalf. I didn't really think they'd spit in the petri dish if I bothered them, but why take the chance?

So the lab told the wonderful genetics counselor that:

(1) They do remember and will culture to Day 7 if needed and

(2) They are working on my embryos RIGHT NOW!!! and will call me by the end of today with an update.

Gulp. Gulp. (breathe) (scratch) Gulp.

Mo

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