We had five days to get back to Spain for transfer, even though we knew there was a risk that we’d arrive and there would be no embryos to transfer. With so few embryos to start with, the risk was relatively high that all of them would die off before reaching blastocyst stage. Still, we hustled, paid through the nose for our plane tickets, and arrive early in the afternoon on Thursday, the day before our embryo transfer Friday morning. Itziar, another English-speaking associate at the clinic, picked us up at the airport. We were nervous, because we still didn’t know if we had embryos to transfer or not. Her phone rang as soon as we met up with her, and it was Salomé. “She says to tell you,” said Itziar, “that you have two beautiful embryos for tomorrow morning.” That news was a huge relief. It was a warm sunny day in Alicante, a nice break from our dreary autumn weather back home. We hiked up to Santa Barbara Castle, the imposing medieval fortress that looms over Alicante. We took pictures at the top—pictures I wanted to show our baby. We were feeling very optimistic, and very much in love. It was a beautiful afternoon, and it felt like tomorrow would be a great day to get pregnant.