There’s never anything to report on the fourth day.
My clinic called to tell me that I have to be there tomorrow at 11:45 a.m. because my transfer is scheduled for noon. I felt like saying, “Can I just come at 1 p.m. instead so I don’t have to wait as long for my doctor?”
So, as a means of breaking the tedium and the tension (because I do still spend almost every waking moment wondering what the embryos are doing), I offer E’s recent interpretation of a classic nursery rhyme:
“Hickory, dickory, plop.
The mouse pooed on the clock.
The mouse got a cloth and took it to the sink and got it wet
And the mouse cleaned the clock up!”
Potty humour. At 31 months.