The box (part two)…

If you haven’t read The box…, do that first, and then, come back to see what’s inside.

The contents of my box likely mean nothing to anyone but me or Chris. I’m sure Chris would have disposed of it long ago. I had visions of being creative once we had a biological child, and then, I kind of forgot about it sitting in my closet when that child never came.

Most of you will think it’s odd that I’ve held onto what’s inside. I realize that.

It’s containers full of needles.

Empty vials of medicine.

Pill bottles.

Directions on how to administer medicines.

Calendars of when to take medicines.

Printouts on diagnoses and procedures.

Medical wristbands for tests, retrieval’s, and transfers.

Receipts.

And, something you can’t see.

Despair.

Unrealized dreams.

Disappointment.

But, mostly hope.

I can’t tell you how many pills I took in hopes of having a child. I can’t tell you how many injections I had. Or how many blood draws.

But this box can.

This box can’t tell you what it feels like to experience the loss that comes with infertility. It can’t tell you how many days I wished and hoped for a child. Or, what it feels like to tell your husband you’re not pregnant month after month.

But, I can.

This box may seem like a reminder of a horrible period in our lives. After all, none of it worked. We aren’t what you would call an “IVF success story.” And, that’s true. We aren’t. But, I don’t regret any of it. If we had done one thing different or been “successful,” I truly believe we wouldn’t have Emma. And, I wouldn’t change that for the world.

Jess