Fertilisation report

Well, it turns out DH's boys are quite the smooth talkers. Of the six eggs, five were suitable for injection, and as of just now we have three beautiful embryos.

There are statutory limits on how many embryos can be transferred at a time in the UK, and under the age of 40, except in exceptional circumstances, you can only have a maximum of two. Over 40, that increases to three, due to the greater likelihood of one or more failing to implant. As I recently turned 40, that means I could have all three transferred tomorrow (assuming they all survive till then - I know nothing is guaranteed). But I don't think I'm prepared for the risks to my health and, more importantly, to theirs, if all three did implant.

DH and I had jokey names for our first two children long before we even got engaged, and there's now a clear name choice for the third. So, again assuming they all survive until tomorrow, I think we're going to see if we can transfer Rucksack and Ray-Ray and send little Viennetta to the freezer. If they won't let us freeze just the one, maybe we'll go with the risk and transfer all three, but I'll need to discuss that with DH tonight.

It was one of the best moments ever to call DH and tell him he's now a father of three. I then called my parents and told them they have three tiny new grandchildren in a petri dish.

One of the things that I feel cheated of by this whole IVF process is the ability to plan to surprise people with the announcement of our pregnancy. I had various different plans about how I was going to tell DH, our parents, our brothers and sisters, and some close friends. I know this is one of the major reasons why some people keep the fact that they're going through IVF a secret, because they don't want to miss out on those moments.

But whatever happens, and however this whole process turns out, I'll never forget the joy of being able to announce to some of my favourite people in the world that we have those three little babies. With DH's disastrous sperm count and my low ovarian reserve, there was huge doubt about whether we'd ever even be allowed to start this process, and now we have proof that our aging chaps between them are not so duff that they're unable to get together and have a party.

I feel quite maternal towards them already, and hope they're keeping safe and warm, behaving themselves and being nice to each other over there in their petri dish. And transfer is tomorrow afternoon, so I'll be able to keep a closer eye on them and give them proper motherly instructions after tomorrow.