A month ago, I thought that Dr. Lee would give me progesterone to induce a cycle. We would start the pills on the 9th, stop them on the 19th, and mensturation would start somewhere between the 20th and the end of the month. March would come, and we would be excited to start out the journey again.
But now, that idea is foreign, hurtful, agonizing. Because February 9th changed everything. And, even with the knowledge that you really NEED a cycle after labor and delivery before trying again, we still wanted to so much. And so we did. And now we are heartbroken. And I cant help but ask myself why when, a month ago, this is what we thought would happen. This was "the plan". How many times, after the 9th, 10th, and 11th, did I say how shocked I was... How this wasn't what we thought would happen... So many times... And I thought it even more.
Yet, I'm sad. My husband cried with me. We held each other, confused and scared, left wondering "what happened???"
Last night, after Ash Wednesday Mass and choir practice, as we walked to our car, Peter stopped and hugged me. Someone from a distance might have looked and said "How cute," as they saw a man embracing his wife. What they wouldn't have seen is how rigid his wife was, how she didn't return the hug until her husband said "Don't you want to hug me too?", how the hug was the last ditch effort to salvage a night that was falling apart.
During that same hug, Peter whispered "I'm sorry." Perhaps the couple walking by us would have heard him say those two little words and laughed to themselves about the lover's quarrel that sparked penitence. I'm sorry. Never would they have imagined a man saying to his wife "I'm sorry... that your period started."
It's just the perspective, I suppose.