On June 9th, we transferred our first embryo.
Jin was not allowed to accompany me to the procedural room, so he had to drop me off in front of the surgery center and wait in the car until I was finished. Right before the transfer, our doctor gave me a photo of the embryo - a little mass of cells that really didn’t look like anything…
There was a TV in the procedural room, and right before they drew up the embryo into the catheter, they showed me the petri dish with my name on it, and a TEENY, TINY little dot in the middle.
“That’s your baby, Vicky!”
I swear, I kept it together until that moment.
That small little dot on the TV screen… that little speck was going to change and develop into a baby.
Our baby.
The procedure itself was quick and painless, and when it was completed, I was told to rest in the room for about 15 minutes. Of course, I FaceTimed Jin as soon as I was alone in the room to show him the photo. We came home, and I was given the rest of the week off to just rest at home.
We asked a few people to cover us in prayer as we went in for the procedure. Each person/group was very excited for us, wanting to know when the blood test is or if we have names picked out… And while I was so thankful for these individuals, there was a part of me that was too scared to celebrate with them.
What if the celebration ends up being premature???
One of the people we asked for prayer coverage is a pastor at our church. He texted to follow up, and I shared with him that we were happy and thankful to get this far, but we’re still being cautious with hope. In his reply, he reminded me that God WANTS to prove that He is FOR us, and when our expectations of Him are low, our praises of Him are equally low when He delivers.
Not if… when.
And my God deserves the highest praise.
And so, since the transfer day, I’ve been trying to teach my heart to hold him to high expectations.