So many things going around in my head.
Finally got an under-5 quantitative HCG level. Officially un-pregnant.
A month ago, today, we saw the baby for the last time. Yesterday, I should have found out for sure if it was a baby boy or girl. Today, I wait for test results I feared wouldn't come, and feel that with each day passing and no results, I was right.
Today someone told me their 18 year old sister was pregnant. Surprise. Due in October. On my due-date. Isn't that always the way?
MercyMe's The Hurt and The Healer constantly plays in my head. Plays in my car. Plays on my iphone. (I just tell Siri to play it and she DOES! Admittedly, that rocks!) Reminds me that I am alive. Pieces of me have died, but I am alive.
And grateful for a beautiful life.
I go between crying with no warning to giggling hysterically at something that Luke does. He is so funny, that boy. I have, have, HAVE to do a catch-up post on him, but I'm too busy hanging out with him to have time to really do that post justice.
I'm anxious and optimistic about the upcoming transfer, but really feeling like if it doesn't work, I just may be done. I told John I'd go for one more fresh cycle, for him, but really...it would only be for him.
I saw something in my FB newsfeed today that sort of resonated with me. "A grandchild fills a space in your heart that you never knew was empty."
Of course, it's not the grandchild part...it's the space in my heart that I never knew was empty.
That's what's been getting me. Before Matthew, I KNEW there was a space in my heart that was empty.
In truth, though, I only thought it was one space. I didn't ever dream that I'd be lucky enough to have more than one child, though I certainly, certainly would have loved to. After so, so many years of infertility, though, I just figured if I was blessed enough to just have one...I'd be beyond thrilled.
And that one was Matthew. Of course, I dared to dream when they told us that we had one embryo frozen from Matthew's batch, but that poor little embryo was a slow-growing one from the get-go and I maintained realistic expectations that Matthew would be the only child we'd have.
Fine with me.
Until we lost him. How? How? How could we go through life without even trying again to bring that sweet joy of parenthood—parenthood we actually get to experience with a living child—into our lives again? I know many of my close friends and family thought I was done with IVF after Matthew died. I know why...but thankfully, as devastated as we were, the joy of his life and the hope for more joy was just sweeter and more motivating.
I didn't realize there was even a Luke-shaped space in my heart, but now, I can't even imagine how I ever lived before him. I never knew HIS space in my heart was empty, until he came and continues to fill it every single day.
He has brought such joy to our lives; we felt like we'd be nuts if we didn't at least *try* to see if we could bring in more of that joy...another precious gift to love and raise. A sibling Luke would get to live with and with whom he could grow.
But I didn't feel like I had another empty space in my heart. I had Matthew's. I had Luke's. Good enough. John and I kept telling each other that another baby would just be icing on the cake.
That was until we got pregnant. When I saw that pink line start to form and get darker, I realized there WAS another empty space in my heart. I never even knew it was there.
It's one thing when you don't even know the empty space is there.
It's another when you not only know it's there, but you are acutely and painfully reminded how it's still empty, just in a different way.
After this transfer, I don't think I even want to know about any more people-shaped spaces. I know that sounds awful, and to think that I'd have missed out on Luke if I wasn't willing to discover his 'space' in my heart really stings.
But finding out about spaces that don't get filled on this earth is wearing on me. I feel like before we did IVF, we were very clear on where we felt God was in the whole process. Laying it so strongly on our hearts to go for it.
Not feeling that much more. Maybe that's the pain and the fear of more pain talking, and don't want my life to be lived with that as a guide.
I don't think so, though. I think I've discovered about as many people-shaped spaces as I'm supposed to.