I've swallowed the doxycycline, the methylprednisolone. The progesterone in oil (well, thankfully, in ethyl oleate) has been sunk deep into my gluteals each evening by my lovely partner. Transfer is scheduled for 8:30 a.m. tomorrow.
Nothing to do now but wait, wait for my uterine lining to be synchronized, wait for the embryologist to (please) coax those little frozen things into life.
Tonight we will drink a toast of pomegranate juice, and wish the Tiny Frozen Americans a safe journey from the dark frozen underworld into our world of light and sound.
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