Some days are better than others
The weirdest thing about packing up the stuff in what used to be my office is running across the cards that Beth sent me over the years. I wish now I had saved them all so I could arrange them chronologically. From excitement, to wistfulness, to hope, to despair.
And all those papers from the fertility doctors. It’s hard to believe that we tried for as long as we did. A thick folder detailing protocols of injections, inseminations, egg harvesting, reimplantation. Each procedure was more harrowing than the one before it, and we did it for so long. The notes from the lawyer we visited concering egg donation. The ad we placed in Boston magazine for a donor. In the end none of that worked.
The saddest thing I found was the confirmation of our room at the Rock Harbor Lodge in Isle Royale. That’s where the boy was conceived eight years ago.