The Weeks After

Leaving the doctor's office, I immediately made it home to throw in a load of laundry, clean the kitchen, pay the bills, run errands, and go grocery shopping.  In fact, with no doctor's visits on the books, I began to pile my schedule up with errands and busyness to fill up my time. 

In the following weeks, I went through our "master bedroom" which had become a construction zone/catch-all.  We had dinner with our good friends, the MCs.  We had movie dates with my family, worked on the house, and poured ourselves into our jobs.  I turned my attention to my friends and made cobblers for birthdays and planned my best friend's baby shower.

On November 14th, I said "goodbye" to an old friend from elementary school as we laid him to rest following an unexpected suicide.  As I sat at his funeral, I couldn't swallow the giant lump in my throat.  I would be lying if I didn't admit that I knew what it felt like to want out of the despair.

The holidays were bittersweet; however, I don't think either one of us had time to slow down and think.  Therefore, we spent as much time as we could with our families and I tried to repair the lost hope I once had.

The Next Step

Following the cancellation of our IVF treatment, there was a glimmer of hope that we would continue again and have a little one on the way by Christmas.  I would tell myself, "it isn't before Thanksgiving, but maybe by Christmas."

There is something about the holidays that never fail to remind me of the longing for a child.  Maybe it is the fond memories I had as a kiddo that made me want to enjoy them with my own.  Maybe it is the idea of "thankfulness" that reminds you of one more year without that blessing.  Maybe it is being around the other littles of your friends and family, watching their excitement surrounding each event, that brings out that nagging feeling of pain.

As we walked into our first follow-up visit, there was a part of me that felt this overwhelming idea that my body wasn't ready.  The remnants of bruises from our last go-around had yet to heal, and I continued to feel weak. 

Once in the exam room, I waited for the doctor-anticipating the worst.

The doctor went through the routine before the dreaded words came, "from what I see here, your body just hasn't quite gone back to normal.  I'm still seeing symptoms from the hyperstim and at this rate, I just don't foresee there being any option to start again before the end of the year."

Disappointment.

A feeling I had come to know all too well, yet never getting any easier.  The rush of emotions flooded into my chest as it began to burn.  I could tell the tears were coming on, and I blinked to try to stop them. 

I couldn't.

My eyes welled up with tears as my doctor asked how I was feeling.  The words wouldn't come as I looked at my clenched hands in my lap and bit my lip.

"Disappointed?" he asked.

The air in the room was thick as I peered over at my husband.  Joshua and I nodded in agreement as I looked straight into the eyes of the man I continued to let down. 

After much discussion over our options, we left with heavy hearts as we prepared for the holidays.