Made With Intention

I was not expecting a phone update on Saturday.

The eggs had been thawed the day before, and I had kept them in mind throughout my meditation and the rest of the day. I found myself sending them loving thoughts and prayers as they embarked on their journey. I wanted to commemorate the day, so I made dinner plans with two friends and celebrated what I called “happy egg hatch day,” also known as “artificial conception day.”

By the end of the night, I was elated. I laughed over delicious food and like-minded company. At one point, I was literally dancing in my seat out of pure joy.

Then came the phone call Saturday morning.

I was getting ready for a coffee date when I saw the clinic calling. I picked up immediately and instinctively sat down to give the conversation my full attention while keeping myself grounded. I settled onto my meditation cushion and Mila curled up beside me.

After confirming my information, Nurse Jordan told me that out of the 12 eggs thawed, 8 had fertilized successfully.

Oh my gosh.

I yelped. I could not contain myself. She matched my excitement as I quickly asked about next steps before she hurried off the phone. 

Next Friday, I will find out how many make it to the blastocyst stage. Then they will be graded and sent off for biopsy. About two weeks after that, I will learn how many viable embryos there are, along with their chromosomal health and gender.

It was all happening in real time now.

I jumped up immediately and told Mila, “We’re gonna have a baby.” I am certain my neighbors heard the screaming, singing, and jumping that followed. I called my mom and blurted out the news in one breath. She nearly cried. Then I called everyone else who would answer the phone.

I could not stop smiling.

And then, almost as quickly, uncertainty crept in.

What did eight mean? Was that good? Average? Expected? Enough?

I quickly asked ChatGPT for statistics to manage my own expectations. The answer: possibly one to three viable embryos.

My mind immediately moved ahead again. Would that be enough for two children? Would I need another egg retrieval? Should I create more embryos now while I am younger?

Excitement. Uncertainty. Hope. Back and forth.

At some point during the day, I found myself thinking about the tiny replicating cells in the lab and instinctively sending them love. Warmth. Encouragement. I wanted those tiny busy cells to know how wanted they already were.

The science of it all amazed me.

How do two cells come together and simply know what to become? How are they replicating outside of my body? How did this donor and I somehow come together to potentially create life? Did he ever imagine this version of the future for himself?

I wondered about the lab’s environment. Do they play music? Is it calm? Are there good energies around?

This entire process suddenly felt deeply spiritual.

Every second, countless cells inside my body divide, grow, change, and die without me noticing. But these cells felt different. They already carried attachment. Possibility. Future. The beginning of entire lives.

It overwhelmed me in the most beautiful way.

Love. Elation. Surrender. Caution. Hope. Worry. Gratitude.

What a gift it is to feel all of it.