My endo pain is definitely still here.  Since I was hoping it would go away, and that would be a pregnancy sign, I was feeling un-encouraged, so just took my first POAS and it’s negative.

Don’t say it.

I know.

It’s 6 days post transfer of an approximately 6-day blast, which is sort of soon. But not THAT soon.  That translates to approximately 11 days post-ovulation.  Yes, it was mid-day urine, I know that too.  A 25 MIU test.

Of COURSE I will test again. 

I just needed to make a decision: to hope, or not to hope?  I still hope, but in a grim, “there’s still a chance” desperate kind of way.  It’s just not an invested-in, well-fed hope, because I don’t see the signs, and I don’t see the point. 

I don’t need to be told to keep hoping; if I get a pleasant surprise, great.  I just can’t keep bouncing up and down over every weird pain.  I have too many.  There is a big difference between anxiety pessimism (“oh no! it probably won’t work! What’ll I do?  Life is so unfair!”) with acceptance pessimism (“well, crap, what can you do?  time to move on, think about other things.  No sense getting all worked up about this, it just doesn’t look hopeful.”)  Acceptance pessimism is more peaceful for me.   I can decide to not hope (much) and that’s one of the few things I can control right now.

It’s actually hope, repositioned; instead of hoping for this FET, I will hope for the next, fresh cycle.  I might get twenty pounds off by then.  My husband will have had 100 days+ of taking folic acid, which seems to help with some aging sperm issues. 

I have a preliminary calendar for Labor Day weekend-ish retrieval.  I’ve gotten in a week of dieting, with great success, more about that later, and can maybe have some success controlling at least some facet of my physical body.   I told my husband yesterday that I’m not seeing any good signs and he’s already “processing” the likelihood of an official negative.  I have made a financial plan B for how we can finance the next try and still move forward with other things we need to do.

Yes, it’s very fucking sad and angry and unfair.  No I’m not ready to see the neighbors’ new baby or hear about the rest of my friends who will doubtless be announcing their second and third pregnancies over the next months.  It sucks, but it could be worse and it is what it is.