Friends I am still in a state of shock. I can’t quite believe this is real, and I’m vacillating between joy and fear joy and fear joy and fear. Today I am choosing joy. I’m discovering that I can choose it in small ways.
For example on Friday I spoke with the IVF nurse at Dr. A’s office and took careful notes on her instructions. She didn’t mention having a second or third beta hcg level drawn, and I know that most women who undergo IVF have three blood tests over the course of a week. I asked whether we needed to have the beta level checked again. The nurse patiently explained that Dr. A was so pleased with the first beta that he didn’t feel it was necessary to check again. She paused for a response, which I apparently did not give. She offered to order the tests if I wanted them. My outside voice said Oh no, that’s okay. If Dr. A thinks it is unnecessary then we don’t want to do it. But my inside voice shrieked Yes! I want the test! Duh! I want a test every day! I want to make sure my babies are growing properly! I want reassurance! I want control! I want to know no one is going to rob me of my joy!
But here’s the thing: for the next twelve days, the only person who can rob me of my joy is me. There’s absolutely nothing to fret over. And that is hard to get used to! For the last two and half years I’ve been tracking R’s cycle and calling doctors and ordering meds and checking supplies and communicating with the KD and the attorneys and dodging Facebook and steeling myself for encounters with pregnant ladies and babies and now I don’t know how to relax. Luckily, we have amazing friends and family who are gently showing me how to be joyful and celebratory.
My mom has taken grandparenting to a whole new level, scouring the Goodwill and sending photos of all her finds for the Beans. My sister and brother and law brought us a sweet, celebratory card and a bouquet of purple tulips. Our good friends brought us three books about pregnancy and some gluten free chocolate cupcakes along with a card expressing their excitement. Another good friend brought us a bouquet of spring flowers, a bella band, Preggie Pop Drops, dental floss (to prevent pregnancy gingivitis), and poignantly, the maternity clothes we’d given to her when we’d pretty much given up hope of needing them.
All these sweet things are sitting on our mantel to remind me that we have every reason to celebrate. My new mantra? More joy, less fear.