Well, it's official. Redux is officially underway. I've done two Lupron shots so far. It's always right about now that the cycle in front of me seems exceedingly long and drawn out, despite retrieval only being a few weeks away.
Needless to say, I am no stranger to fear regarding treatment cycles. This one is no different. I'm pretty nervous all around: nervous about success, nervous about failure, and nervous about the in-between. It is really this time of limbo, between meds and procedure, that these fears bubble up the most. I keep trying to close my eyes and picture a baby bump. Sometimes that vision is clear, and others times I can't seem to conjure the image.
As I mentioned, when I get into a bad place, worrying about our TTC future, I always go back to planning for life beyond TTC. When His Royal Fabulousness and I have these discussions, this is the mental picture I create:
I haven't been shy about expressing my love and appreciation for KG on this blog. I am a lucky girl. I'm not saying we don't occasionally bicker or get on each other's nerves. We have even had rocky times in the past. But I will say that we try to live by the rule of never going to bed angry and we make a concerted effort not to take each other for granted.
This past week, while visiting my parents and friends in Los Angeles, I was reminded of how important it is not to let a day go by (or even leave the house or end a phone call) without telling loved ones how much you care for them.
On Monday, we got some terrible news. A close friend of my father's died while on a biking trip in Death Valley. George and his wife were close with my parents for over 40 years, and this was a very unexpected and tragic death. He was a very kind, loving, and generous person who will sorely be missed.
His death really got me thinking. We do not know the reasons why, but George and his wife never had children. My parents speculated over the years, but respected their privacy and never asked. Of course, as an infertile woman, I have to wonder whether they tried to have children and failed, or whether they made an independent decision to live child-free. Either way, they had a wonderful, solid marriage and lived happily together.
I can't get his wife out of my mind. Although she has many friends surrounding her right now, in essence, she is alone. She wrote to my folks saying that she has lost her sweetheart, her best friend, her partner. I can't imagine her pain. I wonder whether her grief is compounded by the fact that she has no children to lean on during this time. Is she regretting their decision/fate? Is she wishing there were children to hold her up right now?
This is hitting a little close to home. The thought of being left alone, if anything happened to KG, is just too overwhelming to bear. Although our TTC efforts are far from over, it is easy to see myself in her shoes.
When chatting with a friend today, she summed it up. She said that all you can do is enjoy every minute together that you can, and never forget to say, "I love you." Well said.
I think I'll call KG right now.