Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Letter To A Bunch of Cells (6 Days Past Transfer)
I’m currently in two week waiting hell while you make up your cells about whether you want to hang around or not.
It’s a little stressful, I have to admit.
As part of my 2ww I’ve been doing a lot of surfing the net and I can’t help being jealous over how many people get to write these nice little regular newsletters to their babies. It’s kind of a cute way of noting the milestones. A progress update if you will, first steps, how many teeth have appeared, all that sort of thing.
You’re not actually a baby as such but I feel you have some very fine potential. So I thought I might write a newsletter to you anyway.
Ok, so you’ve been in my uterus for 6 days now which means you are nearly 11 days old!
Woo! How cool is that?
It seems like years ago that you got to whoosh through the Catheter Of Great Excitement from your Petri dish right through my cervix and into the amusement park that is my uterus.
That was a one way ticket by the way, you don’t get to ride again, and if you leave the park, a big scary man rips you apart and gobbles you up.
No, just kidding, but you know….stay behind the fence.
Ok, so you’re here, you’re eleven days old, you’re doing that cell dividing thing you embryos are so damn good at. (I tried just now but you know, we lose so much flexibility after about 12. I used to be cool at cartwheels too.)
Now about those milestones.
I can’t actually see you but as far as I know you have no teeth. Or maybe just the one which you used to hatch out of your little shell. Like baby chickens!
You’re probably too young to remember this but your aunties and I had chickens when we were kids! They were so cute! We loved those chickens! And then we ate them, but we loved them first, and my point is that they hatched. And they had teeth.
Or at least a tooth apiece.
Sensibly, I know you don’t have feet either. However I feel you may have done a little rolling. Am I wrong?
I don’t think so.
You’ve felt the rush of speed from the Catheter ride, that’s gonna take a little while for the adrenaline to wear off, and you’re going to be attached to the wall of my uterus for, oh nine months (hint hint) so roll little embryo to your heart’s content (or at least the cells that will eventually merge to create your heart) but just be sure to end up on the back wall by my spine (I hear that’s best) and STAY BEHIND THE FENCE.
From today on, I believe, you will think about attaching yourself.
I say don’t think, do.
I’m always one for procrastinating and I can tell you it leads to disappointment. There are no prizes for futzing about, it’s not cool or smart to hang back and I assure you there are no other uteri to compare with.
Don’t go thinking: I’ll wait for that Catheter to whoosh me into another one and check out the décor, there are NO MORE CATHETER RIDES, I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you.
Don’t worry about the whole attaching thing either. I know you don’t have fingers to cling with but some sort of cellular stickiness will occur; your cells will mix it up with my cells and there will be a cool bonding experience. Trust me it will work.
Or I guess you could always hang on with that tooth.
Meanwhile I’m drinking my Horrid Teas and squirting progesterone gel up my lala like there’s no tomorrow. These will give you a helping hand (since you have none). I apologise if you’re getting any nasty smells in there; it could be the gel backing up around my cervix, or the tea (I’m used to it, but it always freaks other people out) or maybe that asparagus we ate last night.
Currently, I have moles that are bigger than you.
I have skin pores that are bigger than you (but frankly in this weather that’s no biggie).
One day, if you stick around, and you grow and get born and survive your childhood where I nearly love you to death and those angsty teenage years where we have screaming matches and sulk-offs and then you become a big strapping ADULT (which means your genes will have come straight from your great grandparents because your father and I are dwarves), well then…. I will be able to say to you….I knew you when you were smaller than this .
And oh, oh how I wanted you.
So please stay.
Please stay and grow and keep away from the fence (and that's the third time I've told you now, so that might have to be time on the naughty chair) and let me write more of these stupid milestone newsletters. Please.
Love (and you would not believe the absurdly enormous amount I have for you even though you're tiny and fickle)
Your very own Ova Girl