Merry Christmas to me

I went up to Syracuse yesterday for my belly massage and a facial. First, I stopped next door to the FG's office to drop off all of the meds that I won't ever need again. All in all about $20,000 worth.

I asked Pati if she'd heard from the other recipient, and she said she was going to call her that afternoon and tell her that she needed an answer before Christmas.

"But what if she says no?"

Pati gave me a hug and said, "we're still moving forward. We'll figure it out. Go enjoy your afternoon."

And so I went and got my internal organs massaged (no, really, that's what happens). And when I was waiting for the facial, one of the girls who works there came in and said Pati was on her way over to talk to me.

She came with a packet of paperwork for me to fill out. The other recipient is not ready to move forward, so Ginger is all mine. For the price of doing a split cycle. I hugged her again. "Merry Christmas, you've been through enough. And think about how many embryos you're going to have!"

Holy shit, that's right. Ginger's previous donation cycles have produced 9 and 14 embryos.

I tried my best to just enjoy and relax during my facial, and I pretty much did. I called Hope when I left and talked to gave her the update. Then I called Jill, who kept saying she was so happy she couldn't stop smiling. This is the way it's supposed to be. Everything that has happened to this point was supposed to.

I pulled out a Christmas CD that I had made last year, but haven't listened to yet this year. I knew that it started with lots of instrumental church music (a good 2 minutes worth) before my favorite Christmas hymn would begin. And as soon as Amy Grant started singing "Angels We Have Heard on High," I started to cry.

It's really going to happen. A year ago today, I got pregnant. And I was so full of hope last year for Christmas. This year? So hopeful that this is going to work. I ran over to church between errands this morning to say thank you.