Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the love, encouragement, support, and general enthusiasm on my last post. I can feel all the positive energy you guys are sending to me and I can't tell you how much it helps. I am incredibly touched that so many people care about what happens to KG and I. Honestly, it never ceases to amaze me.
I just want to address one issue: we only transferred one embryo (Thanks, SKB!). I know the betas are high, but the nurses didn't even blink. Unless some crazy miracle took place, no twins!
Now, we are looking forward to the ultrasound. They first told me to come in next week, but I shocked them when I requested we wait a little while longer. Reason? When we went in for our first ultrasound in 2010, we went in at 6 weeks 2 days. When they couldn't find a heartbeat, they said, "Maybe it is too early. Let's wait a week and see if one develops." I swear to you, there has never been a longer, more painful week.
So, KG and I made the decision to request that we wait until 7 weeks, just to make 100% sure that we will see a heartbeat. No uncertainty this time, please. This is a double edged sword, giving myself yet another long wait, but worth it I think.
Anyway, that you all so much again for all the love coming our way.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Keep 'em Close
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:
Not bad, huh?
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.
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.
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