The odds are not in our favor.

I’m really rolling with the Hunger Games comparisons aren’t I? Day 4 embryologist update and I am just…done…emotionally. I have no optimism left to fake at this point.

From 8 “excellent” and 3 “average” yesterday, we are down to 1 “beautiful” morula that they will transfer tomorrow, and 1 early blastocyst that will most likely get frozen. All the others are lagging behind and will most likely be lost to us. From 12 at retrieval to 2. A whopping 15% survival rate. Yeah. Given all of this information, and the fact that we are just that unlucky, I’m thinking parenthood ain’t happening for us.

My husband is still optimistic that we still have 2 chances, although he’s definitely shaken up. I’m already at the “fuck this” stage. I know the odds. They’re shit. Time to start mentally preparing myself to be the fun aunt to everyone else’s kids, because we can’t afford to do all of this again. I can’t spend yet another $16,000.

I know I’m being emotional and dramatic. I know this. I apologize to everyone out there rolling their eyes at me. I’m sure I’ll look back on this some day and laugh at how emo I’m being.

Well. Shit.