The other day, DH and I were out driving and as we pulled up the stoplight, turning right, I noticed a lady crying in her car across the way. I said something about poor girl, must be a hard day. DH remarked that I seemed to always see girls crying in their car, but that he never saw them.
Well, I guess maybe it’s because I’ve spent a good bit of time crying in my car, like today. There are still 5 or 6 follicles. All are still growing. I say “or 6” because they 6th one is only an 8 and the rest are 12 and 13. The RE doesn’t seem to worried, but she keeps telling me to tell the acupuncturist (yes, I’m going again. They turned me into an incense burner the other day — moxibustion — which seemed to make the RE happy) to work on blood flow.
Last time I had 9 follicles, retrieved 5 eggs, 4 fertilized, 3 made it to Day 3. All 3 transferred — BFN.
So, if we take that math and start with 5. 5 follicles (cut in half) = 3 eggs. 80% of 3 is 2. Lose one = 1 possible embryo to transfer. If you compound only having one with my immune system. Well, the picture is not pretty.
Hence the tears. I’d been existing in a state of denial up until now. I kept thinking that maybe she’d see one or 2 that were tucked away. Or that little straggler would catch up.
My DH and Mom both say “you only need one.” That sounds great, but I’ve read enough and am scientific enough to know that really isn’t likely. Most of the time, if there’s only 1 – it’s a really, really good one in order for it to work. I only had 1 8 cell last time and it was a Grade B (not Grade A, the top).
DH said that maybe that one would be our miracle baby.
I don’t believe in miracles, though.
So, I’m going to ask the RE in the morning about cancelling. To go forward, it will cost us thousands of dollars. (I don’t even know how many thousand, I know at least 2500, maybe more). To refuse to recognize the reality of where I am, well that just seems, well, silly. Once I have that conversation, I will make a final decision. It’s so hard to even type this. This really is one of those moments where it seems like it works for everyone else… but not me. Even though I was in a waiting room full of women, doing the same thing as me, all I could think was that they were the 95% who it eventually works for. And, I’m the 5%. The one that they’re scared to be.
Hopefully, I can make it through the rest of the day without drivin n cryin.