I don’t know how to write this. I’m crying even writing this and I knew it was coming. Today, a box arrived on my doorstep. Like the stork brought it there. Inside the box is 2, possibly up to 4 cycles worth of follistim. At a time when even being able to cycle was in jeopardy this month, this box is like dropping liquid gold in my lap.
I’m not even sure what sort of way there is to thank the gifter for this, especially since my doctor recently informed me that such a share is technically illegal (although that doesn’t stop him from telling me exactly how much of it to inject into my belly every day). And she’s my friend. My very good friend. One who knows me, really me, and loves me anyway.
The reality is, my friend, the one who sent me this little golden box of goodness, didn’t send me 4 cycles of meds, she sent me a chance. A couple of chances. And even if none of them result in a pregnancy or a take home baby, that’s not even the point. It’s a chance.
How do you thank someone for a chance?
I feel ill-equipped to deal with this level of kindness. I’m better equipped for fighting unfair insurance company policies and pondering the crappy ways that people treat each other. Infertility sucks. It tears your heart to pieces and stomps on it over and over again. And yet, it brings people together. People who might not have ever made their way into each other’s lives but for one common thread – the fight to build our families.
But this. The person who has done this for me will tell me I’m making a bigger deal about this than I should. And I wish. I wish I could afford to do something grand to thank her, her and her husband and her little girl set to make her appearance here soon. But I can’t. But I can tell her that I love her. And that nothing will ever come close to expressing how I feel about what she’s given me – with this gift, of course – but more importantly with the gift of her friendship. Nothing is more priceless than that.
So thank you, my friend. From the bottom of my heart. Know that you make a difference in my life. Every day. Not because of storks dropping boxes on my front porch. But because you are who you are. I love you.