We IF'ers accept odds just better than Las Vegas. We invest our hearts, our minds, and our $$ in procedures that have a 50/50 chance of succeeding. We hope and pray that we are "one of the lucky ones" who gets a BFP and that the BFP will stick around for 9 months. I don't mean to sound hopeless, because I'm not. I have a lot of hope riding on the 3 frosties waiting for me in the lab. I can hear the croupier in the sky saying, "Ladies and Gentlemen, place your bets. Step right up and pick a color: Red or black? Place your bets."
So much hope, so much heart-break. The ups and downs. The maybes. The hormones. How do we do it? What if we succeed? When will we stop waiting for the other shoe to drop? Ever?
At diagnosis: disbelief. What? Why can't this be easy? Procedures explained: Hope, curiosity, apprehension.
Action. Body uncomfortable, mind in anguish: will this work?
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Hope?
Waiting. Waiting Waiting. Cautious optimism sneaks, as does certainty that it can't possibly work.
Negative beta = Disappointment. Soul-crushing disappointment. Slow recovery. (Un)explainable tears. Hormones still raging. Raging.
Slowly more smiles. More hope. More hope? Nope. Yes. Maybe.
Where are you on the roller-coaster?