Shrike is now the equivalent of fourteen days post ovulation, and has been peeing on sticks for several days now, to no avail.
Of course, that doesn’t mean anything definitive yet, especially given that (so we’re told) frozen embryos often implant a bit later than fresh ones, but it’s certainly not very encouraging either.
We know there’s still a possibility of getting a very nice surprise in the next few days, or even on Thursday, with the beta, but given the lack of action, and the pretty slim chance of success that we started with, we’re not expecting that to happen.
(Although I suppose that’s why they call it a surprise, isn’t it?)
While we’ve not completely given up hope, and of course, we’re still behaving as though she’s pregnant, in our hearts of hearts and guts of guts, I think we’ve both pretty much moved on from hoping for good news to dealing with the bad news.
Which, of course, is not going to make it any easier if/when the bad news becomes official.
I don’t know if I’ve explicitly said this here before, but if this one doesn’t work, that’s it. We’re done. We have no more frozen embryos, nor do we have, oh, twenty thousand or so dollars of good money to throw after (Merck Pharmaceutical’s) bad for another fresh cycle.
But we were amazingly lucky to have gotten into the study and even been able to try, and then even luckier to have had frozen embryos available for another try, so we can say that gave it our best shot, and if it doesn’t work it’s not because we couldn’t afford to try, or because The Man was keeping us down, or whatever other “woe is us, it’s so unfair” reason, it’s just because.
And, most importantly, we already have one pretty damn incredible kid, and at the end of the day, when we’re done being sad about this, she is more than we ever thought we could have hoped for, and will be more than enough.
But first, we have to be sad for a while.