Life is short

I can’t even describe what the past few days have been like.  Everything just feels so… different.  When I was taking Clomid earlier this year, I felt isolated, taking my little pills five days a month and peeing on a stick to see if they worked before playing the waiting game.  But since my appointment, things have changed.  First, I have a doctor and team of nurses whose whole job is to get me pregnant.  A dear new friend who’s been in my shoes pointed out the fact that I had sat behind the big mahogany desk as the doctor consulted with me, and said that it had stuck out in her own memory too.  For the first time in three and a half years, I finally felt like someone else was taking charge of this.  I actually have now been in a doctor’s office.  I feel like I have joined a special group of women who have had the privilege of sitting behind that desk, having a doctor on their side, fighting as hard for a baby as their patients they see.  It’s weird knowing that in a little over a week I will begin a process that I was praying I would never have to endure.  The difference now compared to earlier in the year, is that I am no longer in isolation.

I admit, I am surprised at the outreach I have gotten from my friends and family.  Isn’t that sad?  But I was nervous to put this whole personal thing out in the public.  What if no one cares? was what I kept thinking.  But the encouragement I received throughout the day of my appointment was overwhelming.  I told everyone how much it meant to me.  But the truth is, it meant more than any one could think.  Chris got home from class that night and we sat there reading through the Facebook comments and we just could do nothing but cry together.  This week I have had women contacting me, telling me their own stories of heartache and reaching out to me offering support.  I am honored beyond words to hear your own experiences, making me feel a little less alone in this.  But why should I be so surprised?  The secrets of infertility, of miscarriages, of broken dreams, why is this something we keep to ourselves?  Why do women experience such emotional heartbreak and then suppress it inside?

The thing is, life is short.  We are only on this earth for a short amount of time and to not share our stories with each other is a life wasted.  

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