There was a moment during today’s embryo transfer that, for lack of a better word, seemed miraculous. That’s not a word I thought I’d ever use without a hint of sarcasm, but the small flash of white light I saw on a murky black and white monitor will remain forever etched in my memory. The nurses in the room told us that we wouldn’t see the embryos themselves, that they were too small, but that we would see the small air bubble which was there to keep the embryos in place. And common sense dictates that it was the air bubble that caused the flash of white light amidst the murky black and gray tissue of my wife’s as-yet empty uterus, but for a moment, for just a moment, this non-believer saw something that could make him believe.

This moment, plus the fact that they handed us a picture of the two embryos, taken just before they were implanted, has left Stef and I with a profound sense of bewilderment. People getting pregnant naturally get to experience this whole process without the stress we’ve been through, but they don’t get this kind of payoff. They don’t get to see this sort of thing. It’s all going on without them even knowing. But we do know. And that makes us treasure it that much more.

We’re a little bit too excited now, a little bit too intimidated. And now we’ve got two weeks in which to wait and wonder. Sure, as I’ve stated before, there will be plenty to do in the span of time between now and then. But that won’t make it any easier.

There are two bundles of cells bouncing around inside of Stephanie’s womb now. Our hope is that they continue to divide normally, that they find themselves a nook to burrow into, and that in fourteen days we receive confirmation that our little balls of cells are still there. Arguments can be made on either side as to where life begins. I used to be firmly on one side, then firmly on the other. But I know that regardless of how it turns out, we created something. Two little somethings. And they’re home now.