Way back when I used to take writing classes where we had weekly partners we'd share our daily writes with. The teacher sent out prompts for each day and you had to write for no more than 10 minutes and no editing. It was all online and a great way to get immediate feedback. Today, I stumbled through some oldies and found the one I wrote after my first IUI which became my dear son. I am holding onto this in preparation for the IUI next week. What luck we had!
Lying on my back after the doctor and the nurse leave the darken room, I imagine what he or she might smell like. I bring soft Johnson and Johnson gooey baby smell to mind and smile. I picture myself holding her or maybe him and ingesting the scent deep into my being, holding onto it, knowing it wont last forever. I let myself allow this potential person to be anything he or she wants. I promise to nurture them, laugh with them, let them cry and read them books before bedtime. I want to feel something between my legs besides the tinge where the catheter went into my cervix. I want to feel the explosion of beginning.
They told me to lie here for just five to ten minutes then its back to work like I had just run an errand
not been inseminated with my future child. I hold onto the images of a girl who looks like I did. Blond hair, blue eyed with big freckles and two missing frontteeth. I hope for a dark Italian looking boy like Dave and the joy in watching him have something look like him. I hold onto that.
I let myself accept it might not work this time. Maybe not the next time either. Or ever. I want to think I can accept this. That I can stop it after this and not continue down an emotional rollercoaster. I stick
with the hope and the smell. I smile feeling the softness of his/her future hair and promise that if I
just get this chance, I wont ever take it for granted.
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