Well, baby-making day was an utter bust, which sucks for me, but which REALLY REALLY bites for my sister and her family. Their adorable, lovely, loving, wonderful family of three will stay a family of three. They are done trying, done beating their heads against this wall of infertility.
My heart aches for my sister, for her six years of hoping and trying and agonizing over phone calls from the clinic. For living in purgatory for as long as she has, not knowing what the future will hold. For what she wanted which is not to be. My heart worries for her.
My heart worries for me too. Her road has been long and tumultuous and heart-breaking, and we share genetics and this syndrome. Mine presents as more ‘mild’, and wasn’t as obvious during puberty and pre-birth-control years. I have leaned on that when I look at her road and think “I don’t think I can do that. I don’t think I can live in this space of uncertainty and stress and financial worries and medical appointments for that long, with that many disappointments”. She is stronger than I, more dedicated. Always has been.
Pea and I figured out the other day that tongue rolling is not precisely Mendelian for inheritance, but it’s definitely genetic. He can’t roll his tongue at all (if you know someone who can’t, to lighten your day, ask them to try. It’s hilarious). I can double roll mine into a clover leaf, as well as the single tube. I just want to know what will happen when we merge our genes. So I will pick up more letrozole at the pharmacy today, and wait for day 1 to get started again.