If I Were Michael Phelps...

I would have won 8 gold medals and 1 silver.

At least that's how I felt today, when the clinic called to tell me that all 9 of our embryos are growing swimmingly, with 8 grade 1 (the best) and 1 grade 2 (still fine, she said). So we didn't do transfer today; it will be Tuesday.

Okay, so I'm not an Olympic champion, and I know no one is reading this and jumping out of her seat the way I did when I watched Mr. Phelps win the 100 fly through brutal, pained determination (and some really long monkey arms hitting the wall 1/100th of a second faster than the next guy). But for me, this feels like a huge triumph. I recognize not all the embryos will make it to Tuesday, but it's exciting to know we're starting from a big number and have a good amount of wiggle room.

Knock on wood. See, you can't say anything too positive, or God might punish you and not let you have what you want--in my case, a baby. No matter how many years have gone by, I can't beat some of the religious rhetoric out of my head (many thanks, Dr. James Dobson).

I'm pretty sure Michael Phelps doesn't think that, though. So it's time to put on my iPod and shake it loose. Go for the gold.