A Dog, A Friend, and Some Hope

All of the above are items that have died in my life since I had my egg retrieval. It only took a couple of days for me to start building up hope again after feeling the disappointment of hearing I would not be having a fresh transfer. My retrieval was on a Friday and by Sunday, I was feeling mentally back to normal and hopeful about our future options. 

On Monday my mother called to tell me our family dog was to be put down. Something I knew was coming but still not a blow you can really ever be properly prepared for. This was also during the height of my discomfort from the retrieval, so I simply hung up in tears but went back to sleep and I don't believe the reality hit me until much later in the week: I never really got to say goodbye. 

The week went on and I went back to work, still feeling uncomfortable but welcoming the distraction of busy days. I scheduled an appointment for Husband to go to the cryobank, certain that the day of retrieval was a fluke and anxious to do something to feel as though we were still working towards our goal.  It was not a fluke. The cryobank called the minute Husband walked in the door with the bad news: no sperm again; I did not even get a few hours to think positively or convince myself that things would work out. The hit was hard to take, I cannot lie. I held in my tears until Husband was out, but once they came it felt as though a darkness washed over me. What makes it even more difficult is knowing that he must be feeling disappointment as well and I cannot be there for him if he does not show his emotions and when I myself feel as though I'm barely hanging on. 

The cryobank was on Thursday, and on Friday, I picked myself up and off to my job, again ready to welcome the distraction. While I'm working, it's nearly impossible to even get a moment to go the ladies room, let alone wallow in self pity, which is what I love about my job. Halfway through the day, however, my mother sent a text saying a good friend of the family had unexpectedly passed in her sleep. Not having any extended family living closer than a 4 hour drive away, my parents had built a family out of close, local friends whom they had known long before the idea of us kids. We spent holidays and birthdays and every reason in the book to party with these people, so it is akin to losing an aunt or other close family member.

I have always despised those who count their losses and cry "why?" during times of distress but it is hard for me to take these punches and continue to say that they will make me stronger. It is true that this is life, and getting through the tough stuff is what makes the beautiful stuff so, well, beautiful. It is just incredibly difficult to see sunshine through the rain right now. 

                                          January 3, 2000 - July 1, 2013