Today is CD13. When I took my birth control pill this morning, I noted that I have seven days left until the injections begin.

(I started on a Saturday. That’s why Monday is already gobbled up.)

Way to scare the shit out of myself on an otherwise relaxed Sunday morning.

I am making progress on my IVF bucket list, however. Tonight, we I enjoyed the seafood pasta dish I’ve been missing, and both of us enjoyed the cherry cobbler dessert that wound up okay in spite of me picking up canned cherries instead of canned cherry pie filling (the cans look totally alike, I swear). We shared a bottle of our wedding wine – only a few left! – and last night we enjoyed a lovely date night in each other’s company. I’ve been working out almost every day, and we’re getting more of the house cleaned up.

If I could remove the regret that would come with definitive infertility – the sureness of never having a child – then our lives would not be bad. We love each other and have fun in each other’s company. We try new things and continue to push ourselves to explore new opportunities and experiences. We have ideas for travel and hobbies and adventure.

It’s that regret, though. I do not know how I would live with that regret. Even just my imagining of it is crushing.

For now – I wouldn’t say that hope is alive, necessarily, because I think hope – that innocent, naive sense of hope – is one of the first casualties of infertility – but for now, we have the intention of chasing this thing down to the ground, if we can. Right now, there are still options remaining. Right now I need to focus on those.

Way to scare the shit out of myself on an otherwise relaxed Sunday evening.

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