Well...things move forward, don't they? Whether I want them to or not, they do. Not on, just forward. Which means that either I do also, or I wallow.
Lately, I admit wallowing has been my preference of choice. I sort of half joke when I say that it's pretty bad that I'm more worried about someone breaking into my house because I'd be embarrassed at what state the police would find it in rather than the stuff that is missing. Usually when John is gone, the house is SO in order because it's just me.
Not this time...which is my secret agenda way of telling anyone who knows me in real life that I'd prefer them not to just drop by for fear of them being overtaken by the dog hair furiously piling up in my foyer.
But since things move forward and I am *trying* not to wallow, we are going to do another fresh IVF cycle. My nurse called me today with my new protocol. Long story short, we will be starting the medicines April 9, a probably egg retrieval on April 21, a transfer between the 24-26th and the results in the first 10 or so days of May. I cannot say enough how grateful I am to be able to try to do this again, while at the same time, so heartbroken that I have to do this again.
Heartbroken that my Matthew will never know his brother or sister on this earth. Heartbroken that *I* will never know my Matthew more on this earth.
The weekend we start the medicines is the weekend we will be going to a retreat for couples who have lost a child and is held by Nancy Guthrie and her husband. I think it's pretty considerate of my nurse to be so concerned that this cycle would not interrupt that retreat because she thinks it will be important for us. Luckily, it worked out perfectly. I am looking forward to it, but would be lying if I said I didn't have some trepidation about it. It's one thing for me to read blogs and emails of people who have lost a child--I hurt for them, I cry for them. My heart breaks for them. But I can close the computer any time I want.
It's another to actually sit there with them...hear the crack in their voices and see the years added to their eyes. Watch them shake softly as they sob about their children. See them stare off as they imagine all the should-have-beens...
Or at least that's how I imagine it would be because I know that is exactly what people get when they are with me.
And I hate that for them. Don't get me wrong, I REALLY hate it for me. But I hate it for them because I feel like it's my life and my pain. It's not fair that others have to deal with it too.
I'm excited, though. I think John is looking forward to it too. There is no Internet access for TWO WHOLE DAYS! Do you know how many Facebook updates that is???
I know, I know...