My sister sent me a message on What's App a few weeks ago with the news that the place where her spare embryos were being stored, needed a 'decision' to be made about their future.  She sent me a screen shot of the ghastly form she had received in the a mail with the various options...(ok, so there were not really various options, just two), and none of them appeared that great for the embryos!

'Donation' was left blank on the form.  Not an option for these old things.. apparently embryos have a shelf life - like a can of soup!  The next option - 'Research Program' - my sis has tentatively checked this box, but she has also checked the next box with the option - 'Training'...

Poor sis, I can see the pen fluctuating in her hand.  I am wondering to myself if she has picked both options on purpose (an equal opportunity embryo-ender). in her mind, some of the 'old' stock being discussed should be destined for storage, and some for training...eeny meenie miny mo... And then, I begin to wonder, who decides which embryo goes where?

I am at work when I read this and feel overcome with a wave of sadness.  The silly open plan office cube makes it hard to get too emotional but giant tears seem to plop onto the desk.  For God's sake pull yourself together Tori.  So, I do, and go into my usual British coping method, involving a 180 switcheroo from sadness to comedy! In a text chain back and forth to my sister, I start calling the embryos names like "Cellular Hopefuls", "Blastocyst Backgrounders", Zygote Wannabes"... I know!  I know... it's awful.  I am a monster.  Still, the tears won't go away.  My sis is right there with me and says she feels pretty bad for the 6 celled critters... She says that when she and her husband received the letter, they imagined how they would have felt if they were childless and had to make this decision.  That would be a whole different kind of sadness.

But - they are not childless.  They have Beau. Our family's miracle.

Nearly 8 years ago, some of the 'best odds' embryos from the aforementioned batch, were brought over to California by Costas The Courier (aka the Stork).  Costas was a real life courier with a wicker hamper of organs and zygotes that he was paid to transport across the pond!  (Ok, sorry, I made that bit up!  I am not sure if he had other organs or not but I am pretty sure they weren't in a picnic basket!)

Costas was my sister's second choice for delivery.  The first, was FedEx.  They called her the day before pick up to ask how exactly this "human tissue" should be transported to America. Sis was a little perplexed and said "well aren't you the experts? Don't you guys know?"  FedEx seemed unable to assuage her fears about how the precious 'items' would be packed, so, she hung up and decided to use a real-live person for this rather important journey.

Imagine the surprise at the fertility clinic in Newport Beach, when Costas showed up with a British accent claiming to have the embryos from the UK. He dropped them off at the front desk to a very surprised staff who were, frankly, used to FedEx, and then... off he went! 

I couldn't help but wonder how his journey had been.  Did he, by accident, at any point, leave the embryos in a rest room, or on a conveyor belt along the way and then get that sinking feeling..

"Shit, the embryos! God, I hope they are still there in the stall

...yes they are...

PHEW!  Dodged that one...!" 

Did he place them in the over-head bin or in the seat pocket in front of him, or did they fit under the seat in a back-pack of dry ice or something?  What movie did he watch in-flight and did he talk to his neighbor and tell them what line of work he was in? Also, what did he do once he dropped them off?  Did he have some time to kill, a few hours at Disneyland before his next pick up - a liver in Fresno?  I wanted to know more and yet we don't.  Costas was just the messenger/ the delivery man.  

But I digress...Costas did his part and now, here we are again, with the 6 hopeful embyros waiting in Newport Beach.  Waiting for me. 

I remember being amazed when my doctor showed me zoomed in pictures of the embryos they were going to start me off with - now that my 'oven' had been chemically prepared to receive them.  What a long journey they'd been on...light turbulence over Greenland...nothing too bad! On the assigned day and time,  I shut my eyes, and, before you know it, they are in...guided by ultrasound and what looked like a giant eye dropper!  I brought a friend and my eldest daughter along for the implantation.  Stage 2 of their long journey - done. 

Now, we all had to do was wait around and think sticky thoughts...implant please! Come on you guys, you've come this far! After a day of bed-rest, where I had my legs raised up (in case they fell out!  I know this seems ridiculous...but this is the kind of stuff that was going through my hormonally charged brain), I went back to work reporting traffic and news:

"the 405 North looking particularly busy this morning folks, if possible I'd take the 5, though you are going to see things jam up at the Orange Crush..."

With each passing traffic report, I felt less and less hope.  Any weird symptoms, I thought I might have felt at the beginning have gone.  These 'hopefuls' had not stuck.  I called my sis from the fountain in Fashion Island, even before the doctor had given me the results of the test.  "Sis, these ones didn't make it.  I am so sorry..." 

She was not surprised - she thought this whole thing was ridiculous and could never work anyway.  Why should it, nothing else had.  "Apparently I can try again in 10 days though"... 

Meantime, I create vision boards and meditate and get a mantra in my mind, and take more crazy hormone shots in my ass.  Dammit this will work, it will!  We still have three of Costas' Hopefuls remaining.

So...ten days later and in they go again!  Only two this time, one didn't make the defrost process.  I am warned that these are the 'less best odds' batch.  Yay - how I love an underdog!  Rooting for you both.  Come on, we got this!

And we did... it worked!

This time they stuck!  Both of them implanted, hanging on for dear life to their Aunty. The underdogs rallied and prevailed. I am sicker than I have ever been.  There is no doubt in my mind.  Victory. A true miracle - even if you don't believe in miracles.  This was one!

It's sad for me to say that there were only two attached embryos for a short time. Twin A tried her hardest (in my mind, it was a 'she') but alas, she didn't make it past 9 weeks.  She gently moved away to allow room for Twin B...our boy!  Our Beau.  My 'less best odd'..  He made it. 

My companion for exactly 40 weeks, born on his due date, rather dramatically (story for another day...) He made it.  May 31st, 2009.

And then, fast forward and here we are today.  Me in my cube staring at this damn form on What's App.  It's just not that easy for me to think of the remaining hopeful frozies, back in the UK...and their future, or rather, their ultimate demise (via Training and Research).  Their shelf-life reached. No turbulence over Greenland, or over-head bin. 

I suppose, for good old American closure's sake, I have to let them go.  But this is way harder than I thought it would be.  Way harder...