I’m in row 23, seat D, flying back to DFW, and I’m happy crying. Or at least, there are happy tears as I think back over the last 24 hours.
I’m crying because my sister and sister-in-law (aka: Iggy now bc she so fancy. All it took to earn that title was a little rhinestone on her dipped nails… oh brother) were THERE for me this week during my pre-FET appointments in Denver. My mom and dad and childhood friend Amanda and cousin April were there too. They came to see me, brought me caffeine-free drinks because I had to tragically cold turkey abstain from caffeine for 72 hours (chocolate included), they picked me up and dropped me off at the airport (is there a greater act of love? Maybe that and helping someone move) when I had planned to just take an Uber, they did my nails, bought my dinner, and brought me cards and unexpected thoughtful gifts. They asked questions about when my due date will be. Not “when’s your due date going to be IF this works”, but rather, “when will your due date be?” They accompanied me to my appointment even though they had to wait in the parking lot due to Covid-Never-Ends. When I was getting my blood drawn (how many vials? Too many…) they saw me in the window and waved at the Phlebotomist and I, and took Boomerangs as I came out of my appointment. I was happy to have it behind me, and grateful for another green light toward our upcoming fall transfer.
I guess the happy tears are also because (sob) there were times in the past, in our earliest days of infertility, that I didn’t have the support of anyone but Shawn. And don’t get me wrong, he’s enough of a partner that he was the only cheerleader I ever needed! But there were lonely times in the past for the both of us, especially when no one knew what we were doing, or that we were undergoing any kind of treatment at all. They had long stopped asking when we were going to have kids, because too much time had passed to where it was awkward for everyone if they brought it up. I guess they never looked under our kitchen sink and saw the XL Sharps Container where I put my used syringes.
We lived overseas and far far away from family in those days, and they certainly cared in their own ways once they knew, like all the times my sister-in-law Heather wrote asking how the shots were going or when my next appointment was, or the times my mom would send a little sunflower card with a note of encouragement inside. And of course Kari was there round two of IVF in Dakar, there to make fun of me when I woke up from surgery, unaware of what language to use, and what country I was in, exactly. (You can read this post to take a look back at our first 3 rounds of IVF.)
Oh, but this time, this week, just knowing someone was in the parking lot waiting for me, willing to give me a ride, and ask how the appointment went, and with an iced vanilla latte to boot, makes me so very grateful.