The odds are never in my favor.

It was about a week later, and I hadn't heard from my doctor's office about how our 6 embryos were doing.  So I called them today. 

Through the process of natural selection, some of the embryos will just quit growing.  So I was curious how many we had.

 They called me back that night, and I put it on speaker phone so my husband could hear the conversation.

The lady told me that I had 2 embryos that survived.  (out of my 6)   My heart kind of stopped for a minute.

She was upbeat about it.  She said they were rated "good" and "good to fair".

(The rating system goes Very Good/ Good/ Good to Fair/ Fair to Poor/ Poor.)  So the 2 embryos I had scored pretty high.  So she felt like that looked promising when it came time to transfer.

When we were talking on the phone, it was mostly good.  We talked about the next phase.  I'm supposed to call on Cycle Day 1 (which should be this week), and then I'll be back on birth control for a while.  And then we'll talk about doing the transfer in January.

After we hung up, my husband and I hugged.  He said that was kind of mixed news.  (We only got 2 embryos, but they got pretty good ratings.)  

I started getting teared up a little bit.  I said I was excited about our 2 embryos, but it still hurts that we only had 2 out of the 6 survive.  The rest quit growing.  I know it was part of the natural selection that they warned us about.  But we were still crushed.  We were really hoping/ praying for 3 or 4 to make it.

Only having 2 embryos to work with means we only get one chance at this.  They will implant them both and see if one or both take.  I was really hoping for some back-up ones.  Because knowing my luck, they wouldn't take.  And all of this would have been for nothing.   Well, not for nothing.  It's brought my husband and I closer.  And I've learned to face my fear of needles.  (I won't say overcome, but I face it grudgingly.)  And we will finally get closure about whether or not my body can conceive children.

But it's heart-breaking.  And I started crying.  A little bit.  Then a lot.  Then I told my husband I needed to go lie down because I was getting light-headed.  I went to lie down on the bed. I started coughing.  And crying.  And coughing, and crying.  And sobbing.   Hubby came in and held me while I cried.  I felt like I was broken.  I felt like no matter what I do, I can't conceive a child.  I told him I was sorry I can't give him a baby.  I felt like I was denying him opportunities to be a dad.  He told me he didn't see it that way.  He said we were just doing the best we could with what we had been given.  I told him I hadn't been given very much to work with.  He didn't say anything.

I cried for while, and he continued to hold me.  I started thinking about how it was a numbers game, and I was not in general a lucky person.  I feel like I am a very blessed person.  And I was very lucky to have met Devon, and have him in my life.  But in general, I'm not lucky.  I'm not one of those people.  If we are drawing names out of a hat, it's not going to be mine.  But that's ok.  In fact, if something can go wrong, it usually does.  And in other parts of my life, I just deal with it and joke about it.   But this hurts too much to joke about.

But then a thought came into my mind.  This wasn't a numbers game.  It wasn't playing the odds.  And no amount of bad luck is going to influence the outcome one way or another.  I have no control over the outcome.  This is all in Heavenly Father's hands.  This was by divine design that I only had 2 embryos survive.  And that was His choice, on purpose.  I had nothing to do with it.  So I needed to stop blaming myself and my body for things that were out of my control.  Whatever was going to happen was going to happen.  And it was by divine design.  So that's just the way it is.

Eventually, I started breathing regularly again.  And we went and got some dinner.  And turned on the TV to distract me, and tried to forget about it for a while.