by The Wannabe Mom
Our sonogram yesterday confirmed we are right on track for our egg retrieval this Sunday — or as I like to call it — our Egg Harvest.
Harvest.
How bizarre is that word? Especially in reference to my eggs. But that’s exactly what it is. So that’s what we’ll call it.
Sunday — in Indianapolis — the doctors will harvest my eggs.
They’ll pluck them one-by-one from my body and fertilize them with my hubby’s sperm. They’ll keep a close watch to make sure everything that’s supposed to happen happens until they transfer one or two of the best embryos back into my belly.
In the spirit of my Egg Harvest, I’m treating today as I would any crisp, autumn day. I’m baking some pumpkin bread. I’m burning an apple spice candle. And, as I look down at my swollen ovaries under my baking apron, I’m picturing the baby bump that might actually be there this fall.
It’s so close I can taste it.
I’m ripe for the pickin’.
So please keep your fingers crossed for us. And, if you’re the praying kind, say a little prayer, too.