Open all night

It has become apparent to me that I'm operating an embryo motel, which can be imagined two ways, neither of them likely to result in happiness or fulfillment, though they are both effective at producing drunkenness.

First, my motel could be thought of like the Roach Motel, where roaches check in, but they don't check out. Alternatively, my motel could merely connote any sort of short-term type of lodging, where guests might be there for a night or two, maybe three, but really under no circumstances would they ever consider staying there for a week. My motel, you see, must be the kind of dilapidated joint on a grimy frontage road near the airport that you would only stay in under the worst of circumstances (e.g., hurricane evacuation, plague, apocalypse), and no one in their right mind, or any mind, would settle in. (Or, really, it occurs to me that there's a third way, too - my motel is like the Bates Motel, and Norman Bates resides within.)

The short version: two IVFs, two BFNs. The slightly longer version: good response, good quality, still BFN. (More later.) My uterus appears to be an embryo-eating black hole, and I hope that it is soon recognized for its accomplishments with some sort of plaque. In any case, welcome.