I’m off the hormones and we are taking a good long break before we start any more fertility treatment. We are going to Greece and Italy next month, so I don’t really care about anything else at this point, ahem, except of course world hunger. Yikes.
Now that I’m out of the fog of everything that happened I’m realizing how much it affected me. I finally feel like myself again, like I have space in my mind for contemplation and peace, and it is such a huge relief. Suddenly the world seems happier, the sun yellower, the cats cuter, the rosé colder, and it seems I’m in a state of euphoric bliss. I don’t have to have a needle stuck into my vein for at least six weeks, or feel the constant weight of waiting and I’m loving it!
Most of these happy vibes comes from my friends. Remember how I was telling you that I was overhwlemed by all the love and support from friends and family? Yes? Well I’m a broken person and I understand that now. Because now, like they always have been, they are picking us up off the ground and making life better. When I needed space they gave it to me. When I needed to cry they cried with me. When I was a bad friend they let me be. When I was emotional they were stable for me. I once heard someone say, "the meaning of life is relationships". Now more than ever, I completely agree.
I texted some of our best friends two days after the negative pregnancy test and asked if they wanted to go to Vegas. They said, “(explicit word) yes!” They cancelled their plans and went to sin city with us so we could have fun and not be pregnant. We got upgraded to a suite, laid by the pool, went dancing, and did what Las Vegas has to offer. We went with friends who are always a good time and we laughed really hard, and chilled really hard, and I loved it. I loved Vegas, who would of thought!
Then this week we had dinner at the beach with friends, and ended the night swimming in our clothes, because why not? I love having friends that don’t think twice about late night ocean swims and have an insatiable desire to love and live life, people who find dryness far too predictable. Then we met friends in Laguna Beach to hike a steep trail so we could eat our picnic dinner with a view. We went to concerts and stayed out late and I went for long runs and slept in and did all the good things that I could possibly get my hands on.
I didn’t realize quite how hard this has been, until now, when I feel the relief of ravenous joy. I think about our friends and I cry residual hormone tears in gratitude for connection. You know that weird game they play at camps where you put a water-balloon in the middle of a sheet and everyone holds the edges to toss the balloon up, catch it and never let it drop? I was the water-balloon, and my friends reacted, responded, stayed, caught me and tossed me back up. Of course the analogy breaks down because they’re not the ones creating the chaos, but still, there in the chaos of it all I always landed softly, and now that I can look up and around I understand why.