Today’s the day my wife would have had the pregnancy test had we made it to transfer day. I had to go to the hospital for a scan today to check for osteoporosis as I’m at high risk due to my hypopituitarism.
I was sat in the waiting room before my appointment and couldn’t help my mind wandering and thinking that I wished I was sat in a different hospital waiting room waiting to find out if our lives were going to change forever.
What have the last 2 weeks been like for us? In a word; devastating. We decided in the immediate aftermath that we would make an appointment to see the clinic counsellor. We went into the session not really knowing what to expect. What could she possibly say that would make things right? Well she addressed that point straight away “I don’t have a magic wand that can make everything better” she said at the start of the session. And she’s right. She didn’t really say much during the session. We mostly talked about our mad lives. And it was a great hour and a half just venting all the emotion and we felt emotionally drained afterwards. But it felt good to air everything, even to a total stranger. We felt emotionally cleansed and a strange sense of serenity. I always thought counselling wasn’t for me or that there must be something wrong with me if I needed it. But I honestly couldn’t have been more wrong. She reassured us that how we were feeling is quite normal and the very real emotions and grief are just the same as if we had lost a loved one. And whilst we haven’t physically lost anything, in that 1 phonecall 2 weeks ago we lost another opportunity of having a family.
So here’s how we’ve turned our frowns upside down; We’ve focused on what we do have instead of what we don’t have. Mostly, we have each other and if that’s all there ever is then that’s good enough for us.
A lot of people have asked us whether we’ll try again and I don’t honestly know. We just want to spend time off the infertility conveyor belt and enjoy the lives we have instead of worrying about what we want so desperately to have. It feels at the moment like we’re reaching for the stars but not even touching the low ceiling above our heads.