My mistake. I was expecting a call before 11. I never got one. Imagine what that did to my mental state. Actually don’t. By the time I did get the call (around 3pm) the inside of my brain probably resembled scrambled egg.
Anyway, next hurdle crossed. Midday tomorrow we go back into The Royal Shrewsbury where I will have both developed embryos transferred into my womb. That’s the good news.
The bad news is that the success rate for a sticking pregnancy for someone of my age is between 5 and 10%. Oh boy. The odds really are stacked against us.
The next two weeks are going to be hell.