|
. |
Monday, August 28, 2006
hello there
Watch that screen, she tells me, they'll be coming up in just a moment.
I'm flat on my back in a small, dim room, knees hooked up in stirrups, calves dangling down, swaddled in crisp white sheets for "modesty". There's a doctor down at the far end, an ultrasound technician to my right. The embryologist, who I've just met, has disappeared into the back hallway.
I turn my eyes to the TV screen, which is blue and blank.
The screen flickers.
And then they're there. Two little round embryos filled with little round cells, captured in all their black-and-white glory.
They're so cute! I breathe, looking over at A, who's smiling first at the screen, then at me.
And for those few seconds, everything is perfect. I'm not thinking about the doctors or the nurses or the vast team of other medical professionals who have helped us get to this point; I'm not noticing the machines, or the hospital bed, or the faint hum of the electrical equipment. I'm not even thinking about the two weeks that await, when I'll get tense, and anxious, and wonder whether our two little embryos are finding their new environs in my uterus to their liking, whether they'll grow and take root, settle in, make themselves comfortable. It's just me and A and a whole lot of hope.
# posted by y @ 6:53 AM
.
|