Ten Years Later...

If you've read this post, you will know that my aunt was a very important person in my life.  Ten years ago today, she was taken from us quite unexpectedly.  My heart still longs for her, and today has been bittersweet.

Having no children of her own, she was just like a second mom to me and my brother.  In retrospect--from an infertile's perspective--this must have been harder than anybody ever knew.  She and my uncle married when she was 19 (nearly 20) and he was 27.  I'm not sure when they started trying to have a family (I'd have talked to her in depth about it if she were here in the last 3 and a half years), but they were unsuccessful in their attempts (she had endo).  The finally decided to adopt and got themselves added to "the list."  Just as they were nearing the top of the list (at least this is the story I've always heard), she found out she was pregnant.  So they got off the list.  Then, she miscarried.  This was at the same time my mom was expecting me.  Nobody else probably knows the strength she must have shown during this unbearable time in her life.  And she loved me more than life, in spite of the circumstances.

For a very long time, I questioned why someone like her would be taken from this world so suddenly.  It was a blessing for her--the paramedics said it was as close to instant as you could get--but it sure was hard on us.  At first, I selfishly thought of all the moments she would miss: my college graduation, my wedding, my children.  But then I thought about all the Sunday afternoons I spent reading instead of talking to her.  Why didn't I just put my book down?  She would often tell me as I was leaving my grandmother's house, "I love you!  I'll see you next Sunday, and don't bring any books!" 

The last time I saw her, she told me she loved me and that she'd see me next Sunday as I was leaving.  She died the following Saturday.  I saw her on Sunday, but it was at the funeral home.  That was two weeks before my 21st birthday.  I went on to graduate from college in December of that same year.  She'd have been there, and she'd have been proud like she always was where I was concerned.  She was the encourager.  She was always sending me cards for every holiday and occasion or even just because. 

As years passed, the pain lessened, but I never stopped missing her--especially on those big days.  The day we went wedding dress shopping, I missed her terribly.  She'd talked about my wedding for my whole life.  About how she'd get to march down the aisle and wear a corsage and be a "special" person.  She was there, though.  I know she was.  Then, when Jeremie and I started trying to expand our family and things weren't going as planned, I'd have given anything just to have her to talk about it with.  She'd have understood when no one else did. 

I have a "date" with my brother in a little while.  We've made plans to visit the cemetary.  It's been longer than I care to admit since I've been.  But I talk to her often--mostly in the car by myself or sometimes in the shower.  She never answers me, but I know she listens. 

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PG UPDATE:

I received a call from my nurse at NFC this afternoon, but apparently I was in a no-cell-coverage spot so she left me a voicemail.  Long story short, they are pleased with my numbers.  First ultrasound is scheduled for 4/15 at 3:00.  I can hardly believe this is happening to me!

Hugs and love,