Can you do self-insemination at home ?
My Dearest,
I feel like I’ve attempted to express my thoughts in words countless times, yet I struggle to find the right ones. It’s hard to believe that almost a year has passed since you left us. So much has transpired, yet a part of me feels as though time has stood still. The memories of our last moments together—both as a family and as just the two of us—are still so fresh, as if they occurred yesterday. I can picture you in your favorite team shirt and sweatpants, gazing at me from the bedroom doorway while I stood by our child’s room. I remember telling you how well you were handling everything and assuring you that you’d soon feel better. I distinctly recall saying “I love you” as I headed downstairs to tend to our little one. In that moment, I truly believed you would recover and we would return to our normal lives. Little did I know, our journey was about to take a heartbreaking turn.
I often reflect on April 3rd, a day that still lingers in my mind. If I’m honest, it haunts me in many ways. I find myself questioning everything about that day, even after a year. I think about how I could have acted sooner. I remember you asking for water the night before, and I quickly brought it to you. I texted you to let you know it was waiting at the door, but you didn’t reply, and I didn’t hear you get up. You were exhausted, and the doctor had reassured me that it was normal. I assumed you had simply fallen asleep and would get it later, but now I realize how terribly mistaken I was.
I wish I had gone back upstairs and knocked on your door… perhaps I would have sensed something was wrong and sought help sooner. It wasn’t until I went to get our child that I heard your labored breathing. I did what needed to be done once I realized you were in trouble, but a part of me wishes I had acted sooner. I can still picture the look on your face, filled with confusion, as I entered the bedroom with the oxygen tank the responders provided. You didn’t recognize me, and I was terrified, feeling utterly helpless. As they carried you down the stairs, that dazed expression is something that will forever be etched in my memory. I silently mouthed “I love you” while holding our child, and I regret that I didn’t take a moment to embrace you. I thought you were going to receive the care you needed and that you would return to us. If I had known it would be our last encounter, I would have changed everything.
Darling, I know you would tell me there’s no need for apologies, but I feel compelled to express my sorrow. I regret believing I had everything under control. I wish I had confided in you that I was starting to feel unwell, but I wanted you to focus on your recovery, as that’s the kind of person you were—always prioritizing others before yourself. I wish I could have been there to hold your hand, to ease your fears, and to keep you company in those final days. I am heartbroken that you had to face the end of your life alone, away from those who cherished you the most. I grieve that you won’t be here to witness our children grow, to explore all the places we dreamed of visiting together, or to finish the projects that would have made our home a dream come true. I am devastated that I couldn’t save you.
Most importantly, I regret that I never answered the last question you posed: “What if I don’t make it?” So, a year later, let me provide the answer: Elsie, Graeme, and I will miss you immeasurably, but we will persevere. You always knew I was strong and resilient. I will share your story, honor your memory, and bring awareness to the impact of COVID-19, especially on young children like Elsie and Graeme. I am determined to fight for change and ensure that you and the countless others lost to this virus are never forgotten. I will form a community for young widows and widowers affected by COVID, so we can support one another on this journey of healing. Above all, I will make certain that Elsie and Graeme understand what an incredible father you were, how deeply you loved them, and how fortunate they are to have had you in their lives. Your legacy will endure, and you will always be remembered.
I still cherish the memory of our last FaceTime call nearly a year ago, which coincidentally was on the anniversary of your proposal. Though you were heavily sedated, I know you could hear me. I reminisced about that perfect day and assured you I would relive it all, even knowing the pain that would follow. Even now, I would choose to experience it all again for the love we shared. When you passed, I know you felt the depth of my love for you, and I am grateful to have been the one you chose to share your life with. I wish we had more time together, but I will forever treasure the moments we had. I will carry our dreams forward and make sure to fulfill them with Elsie and Graeme in your honor.
I want you to know that I think of you and miss you every single day. Thank you for coming into my life and for your unwavering support. Thank you for your unique charm and for the countless joyful memories we created together. Thank you for making me smile and laugh, for teaching me the true essence of married life, and for introducing me to amazing people. Thank you for being the remarkable person you were and for gifting me with our beautiful children. Above all, thank you for loving me so profoundly.
You always said, “Tomorrow isn’t promised.” I intend to live by your example, cherishing each moment as if it were my last.
With all my love, forever and always,
Sarah