Last night was my first shot...my first night of injectables, again. Up until actually having to give myself the shot, I had been quite excited about trying again. Then, as the time neared for the shot I kept putting it off. I don't really know why.
So I finally got all the stuff together to give myself the shot. I swabbed everything down, dialed up my dose, and stood there with the needle just milimeters from my skin. I found that I couldn't do it! I knew it wasn't going to hurt (since it didn't really when we got pregnant in March), but I was scared of something. I stood there injection in hand, needle almost touching my skin, for what seemed like forever. I finally bit the bullet and stuck myself.
It's weird. I guess giving myself that shot last night added another note of finality to Cooper's death. I have to move on - that's what the shot was signifying to me. There are some days that I want to "move on" and others I just want to wallow in the sadness. Yesterday was a move on day until I got all the junk out for the shot. It's hard to stick yourself in the first place, but even harder when you've already done it and had it work...just to have it all stripped away.
I love my son and miss him so much. I know he understands about us starting the TTC journey again. He knows how important it is to his daddy and me to have a baby to hold and take care of. I am praying that Cooper sends us a brother or sister for him. After all, this baby will be hand-picked...how many people can say that?
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