Jon, Gus and I had a very good time at the cottage. Well, Gus had a great time, we had fun being with him having such a great time, but we slept horribly. So, for a three-day weekend, I think that's a good trade-off.
We got up to my mom and step-dad's cottage on Friday afternoon. Immediately, Gus asked if Jon would take him on a boat ride, which Jon did while I unpacked. Jon said that during one of their early boat rides Gus said that he wanted to row the boat. Well, Gus is only 3, so his rowing consisted of putting the oars up and down, and then asking why the boat wasn't going anywhere. Apparently this then turned into the two of them fighting off lions, elephants and alligators. I love that Gus' creativity is coming out more and more.
Like I said, we got up to the cottage on Friday afternoon and left Sunday after lunch. During our stay Gus went on the rowboat, the paddle boat, went "fishing", helped Jon catch fish in a bucket, helped start two fires, played go fish and war, made s'mores, played catch with Jon, whacked around a croquet ball, picked up and brought home a ton of pine cones, and ran around the yard with his wooden "sword" thwacking tree trunks as he ran past.
During all of this, it was wonderful to see him doing all these things, and I was having joy being with him. But there was always the feeling of "I may never get to do this with another child" accompanying me, and the thought that while Jon was with Gus I should taking care of a younger sibling and we would swap kids upon his return. On Sunday, after we put Gus to bed, Jon began a conversation in which we talked about how he's happy and he could be done trying. He talked about how we have two roads we can choose from.
He stated that we can choose to stop treatments, a road where we are happy and has no loss or grief. Or, we can choose to continue treatments, a road that is stressful, may lead to loss, grief and no child at home.
I, of course, cried. I tried to explain to Jon that if we stop treatments, if we stop trying for another child, then that is a road guaranteed to be filled with pain, loss and grief for me. If we keep trying, we might have those things, but we might not; we might get to bring another child home. I also tried to explain to him that when he tells me that he'd be fine to stop that it makes me feel incredibly alone, and that I'm the only one who wants to keep doing treatments.
I know that he's entitled to his own feelings and thoughts, but it does feel so incredibly isolating to know that it would not phase him at all if we stopped. If we stopped, I would be incredibly sad, I would grieve as I did Oscar, Bella and Tittle. I would grieve the life I hoped I could have parenting two children on earth. I would need to increase the frequency that I see my counselor to help me deal with my emotions, as well as come up with coping techniques to deal with the families in our lives that are adding to their families.
Right now I really am trying to just float along during our break. I'm trying to just think of this as a short recess before we can meet with the urologist for Jon to see what's going on with his motility, while secretly hoping that by that time his counts will be back to normal, all the sperm that was created while he was in ketosis has been expelled, and we can go back to the RE for one last, bring-home-a-baby cycle. I really, really, really thought that we were both thinking that this was just a short break. I think this might have been why I was so taken aback by the conversation we had on Sunday night.
At the end of the conversation, Jon agreed that he would try to see things from my perspective more so that I don't feel so alone in this. What I want more, though, is to have both of us on the same page and to not feel as if I'm dragging him towards a second child at home. I want to float during this break. I want to float and try to get my hope back. I want to float and try to be positive again. I want to float WITH Jon, not float while Jon stands on shore waiting for me to be done.
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