4th – 10th August 2015
With 2 potential babies inside me we reached home full of hope. I was getting used to the idea of an actual living, breathing piece of us. It would be exciting; and we would be good parents. G loved babies, played with them all the time. I wondered – if he loves his nephew so much, imagine how much he’s going to love his own baby!
So we waited and we hoped. The doc had said no travel and no stress and no bending or picking up heavy stuff. So we followed the rules; and boy did he pamper me. If it were up to him, he’d not even let me get up from the bed. He kept a hawk eye on my medication, made sure I ate on time and ate well. Gave me foot massages and didn’t let me worry for a minute. It was the happiest week of our lives.
We hadn’t told anyone – not even the parents – that we are going the IVF route. The success rates are not so promising and we didn’t want anyone on our backs trying to ‘help’ us out. So we lived in our little secret bubble and made plans. We knew we shouldn’t be too hopeful, but we still talked about the baby as if it already existed.
Waiting was tiresome, but one week was already done. And we’d followed instructions to the T. Just one more week and we’ll find out if things worked.
Little did we know that everything was going to be destroyed.