Or, at least, end of chapter.
We have a lot of talking to do, a lot of planning...
*****
When my parents called me, way back in 2000, to tell me that my mom was going in for surgery to remove a mass from her ovary, a possibly cancerous mass, I knew at that moment. I knew she was not going to survive her illness. Somehow, I knew. And when we got some good news about her bloodwork, how she seemed, initially, to be responding well, it always seemed odd to me. Of course I was thrilled that she was doing well, but...well, I don't know. I didn't trust it. In nine months she was gone.
After my water broke, when I was laying there in one of the hospital beds, words passed through my mind, "Well, that was it. My one chance is over." I know I've told that story before. And last fall, last year, I believed, that we still had another chance. Well, I wanted to believe it, anyway.
*****
Keep the info and advice coming. I'll keep you posted.
Thanks for being here.
S
6 comments:
I'm sorry :( What a load of crap that this is so effing hard.
*hug*
sorry doesn't cut it, I know. it sucks.
that feeling of resignation I know too.
thinking of you both as you decide what's next.
Sorry - just sorry.
End of this chapter, yes. End of the story, no, not yet. And however you decide to continue, I'll be here reading.
I know I felt like my inner voice was always 'telling' me exactly how things would play out. It was right many times. But also, totally WRONG, especially after.
Have a glass or three of vino tonight, and take a break from all this for a few days. It'll still be there when you're ready to tackle it.
xxoo
It f*cking sucks and I'm sorry.
My instincts (and I have a developed 6th sense) tell me to tell you to press on, whatever that means to you.
I know it is so much easier for me to will you to proceed with IVF and hope that whatever you do brings you long awaited and much deserved success.
Just sorry...
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