After the hysteroscopy in December, the stress of the holidays, the death of my grandfather, and a 3-week long business trip, I had pretty much checked out on this process until I had to get back to it. So much was going on that stepping away from writing the blog and thinking too deeply about the process was easier than I thought. Almost like putting a book on the shelf.
It wasn't completely set aside and haunted me a few times, and more recently as we've started to move toward the next steps. It was very present in mind during my grandfather's funeral. He was 94 and the day he passed, there was record snow fall at Crested Butte, CO, arguably his favorite place in the world. I thought back to all the time spent with him there, from the ski lessons to the fly fishing philosophy and "big" fish stories, and how my children would never get to meet him. He was larger than life in so many ways, and his funeral reflected that with standing room only attendance spilling out into the foyer at the First Presbyterian Church in Roswell, NM.
My mother gave a touching and humorous eulogy fondly reflective the man he was. As the oldest grandchild I stood to add to that and the tears started rolling as I faced the full church. So many people who knew, loved, and/or respected my grandfather enough to show up that day. I forgot my funny stories and just went with the one I could remember. More of a theme, really. I choked on the words a bit, but in the end, my grandfather was all about "winning". Yet, it wasn't in the traditional binary way. In order to win, there didn't have to be a loser. He would always encourage everyone to do their best and to go "full-tilt", as my mother put it, into a problem or challenge. If you gave it your all, you were a winner. Going through life, everyone could be a winner in their own way and on their own path, and he took it upon himself to be sure everyone around him was giving it their all at all times. They were hard words to say, given the struggle we have had these last few years. My brother then spoke and told a perfect story about how Grandpa would always be asking, "So, what's next for you?"...always looking forward, looking ahead to what can be acted on vs. what was behind you. So very relevant, and a habit I should practice far more often.
I departed for my business trip the same day that Michael and I arrived back in Houston from Roswell. 3 weeks away to Wales, Belgium, and Czech Republic. It is likely my only international business trip this year and to 2 new places, so I didn't want to waste the opportunity feeling down on myself. As Michael dropped me off at the airport, I cried. I was already missing him. He's my rock and I have been feeling so fragile that there was a part of me that wanted to call off the whole damn trip right then and there. In the end, I'm glad I went. I accomplished all my business objectives and felt in control of SOMETHING by doing so. I met lots of people face-to-face and built relationships I had only had on the phone up to that point, which was fulfilling. I also made it a point to get out all day during my free weekends to sight see and take on some culinary adventures. Retail therapy is also a wonderful thing. I believe this is the earliest I've ever been ready with my Christmas shopping list, EVER.
It was a good trip, and similar to our August vacation to California, a very helpful break from the process. At the end, I was thrilled to be going home to see Michael, yet I felt the anxiety creeping back into my chest about finally having to make an official decision about our next steps in our fertility journey.
One of my favorite stops on the trip was an old church in Bruges with a sculpture by Michelangelo called "Madonna and Child". It is one of only a few of his works (perhaps the only?) that can be found outside of Italy. I read that it was sold to the Flemish way back when due to the fact that both the Madonna and Child are posed in a way with their heads tilted downward, rather than up toward God, making them less desirable. I'm not Catholic, but I paid to light two candles, one for each embryo on ice. I figured it shouldn't hurt to do so...no one was standing there checking for Catholic IDs (is that a thing?) and the Holy powers-that-be surely have more important things to worry about than my specific religious education as it pertains to candles. I sat in the cold church (no heating) studying the sculpture until I couldn't feel my hands or toes. It was January in Belgium, after all, and only just above freezing outside (and in the big stone church) that day. It may just be me, in the baby-related circumstance in life where I find myself, but I loved that sculpture and felt sad it was "rejected" back in it's time. I guess it's easy to be picky about your Michelangelo statues when they come so easy? When you have so many? I wonder if the Flemish, who purchased it at the time, saw it as wonderfully rare, prized, and special. The downcast stares of both figures are peaceful, and their postures are relaxed. A pair who went through the ringer to be just where they were in that imagined and rendered moment. They were wonderfully at peace just "being" together. My two little candles flickered in the cold, representing my two frustratingly rare, prized, and special embryos that might come so easy and mean much less to someone else. I longed and prayed to be at peace like that, to find some form of peace in our upcoming decision. To be ok with these two possibly being all we can get from me. Lots of emotions, some tears, as my moment of alone time in the cold pew passed. My cold fingers and toes led me out to find a cafe and a warm mug of hot chocolate.
Side note: I will always be able to find (momentary) spiritual peace in a warm mug of hot chocolate.
You are so beautiful!
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