Thursday April 21, 2022
I remember the night like yesterday. Our daughter Sharon called from Edmonton. “It’s over,” she said, and started sobbing.
Sharon was in her mid-thirties at the time. “Finally, one of the in-vitro fertilizations worked in a petri dish. Three cell blobs were implanted and my body registered the appropriate hormonal response. I was pregnant after almost a year of trying.”
She named the three “blobs” – properly, blastocysts – Huey, Dewey, and Louis. Because A, B, and C, or 1, 2, 3 sounded too generic.
Because of her age, hers was considered a “high-risk” pregnancy. She had ultrasound tests almost weekly.
And then one week, there were only two blobs left.
And about a week later, the ultrasound showed no blobs at all.
That’s when Sharon called to say, “It’s over.”