Okay, below is what I wrote two hours ago:
I care, yes. But I care more about being happy and joyful.
Frankly, I’m more worried about my husband’s feelings.
Now, “my husband” and “feelings” aren’t two words that really … go together, if you will.
He’s a guy; he doesn’t show much emotion. He uses logic—doesn’t gauge things based off his emotions.
So … when I say I’m mostly worried about his feelings, you know it’s bad, girls.
24 eggs were retrieved yesterday. Nine eggs were mature. Four eggs fertilized normally.
I don’t know what to say. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. My eggs are pathetic.
I just want a family. I just want a pregnancy.
We are now dipping our toes in the insanity pool. We keep doing this over and over and over and over again … nothing’s different.
I’M OVER IT!
Ugh, I’ll get a report tomorrow. You can pray for these four to keep growing normally, or you don’t have to. Whatever.
And, believe me, I’m not trying to bury my feelings or act “cool and collected.”
Admittedly, I might break down in tears later today; I’m not going to deny that.
But, seriously? I’m just over it and don’t really care. I just want to be happy.
The time has passed just like it always does.
I just ask that if you have any ounce of hope for these four early embryos, can you send them your magical dust?
I can’t ask Him anymore.
At this point, if there’s anything worthwhile to transfer on Tuesday, I’ll consider this His big, funny joke … but you won’t find me laughing.