The Waiting Room

So last week CD 1 showed and that means on CD 3, I make the visit to my RE’s office. I’ve been doing this for almost 2 years now..same RE’s office…same deal. For this entire year…the only thing I’ve wanted to do was grow a lining past 5.5mm….and it just hasn’t happened. I’ve tried to fix it by having a 2nd hysteroscopy surgery in April and taking new medicine, shots, pills, protocols, etc…. But here we go again…

I’m called from the waiting room.

So into the ultrasound room we go and………. another damn cyst. 40mm. And to top that off it has a blood clot in it. What? My RE doesn’t seem to be phased except for the fact that he says, “Well, you always have something, huh? You’ll have to wait it out another cycle or two. Oh, and if for some reason you have to go into the hospital make sure they don’t remove your ovary or you could die.” Thanks doc…wow.

So….no go on this FET cycle….cancelled due to this monster cyst.

I feel so……nothing.

It’s like, I’m a robot when I go into my RE’s office now. It’s never good news when I go there. There’s always something that hinders me to start an FET or go through with an FET…so no emotions…at all.

Until I walk out of the ultrasound room…..and I see her. Talking to the receptionist. My friend in the waiting room who I hadn’t seen in a while…a long while.

We had talked a couple of times, waiting for appts and exchanged emails. We thought it would be wonderful if we could be pregnant together…that was last Feb or March….

And she just gave birth. To a precious baby boy.

I saw her and I immediately just felt the need to hug her….and tears starting streaming down my face. Not tears of jealousy but tears of joy…her dream has come true….she now has a baby.

Her number was called from the waiting room….in more ways than one.

I hugged her and hugged her again. She said she’s been praying for me and I truly appreciate that. I believe in the energy people give one another…the prayers, for me, help. For someone…a total stranger at first….to have a bond through infertility…..it’s just special. And I am so happy for her 😉

I felt bad because I saw a couple of other girls in the waiting room looking at us…so I quickly went back in the office room and said my goodbye to her…she never has to be in this waiting room again….and that might be the one thing I’m jealous of.

This waiting room.

It’s such a fitting name the more I think about it…especially for an RE’s office.

You wait for your turn. When it’s your turn, you go into the ultrasound room to see if it’s your time, you wait for your procedures, you wait in the two week wait, you wait to see 2 lines, you wait for your blood test, you wait for a heartbeat, you wait to graduate from your RE’s office, you wait for the 2nd trimester, you wait until a healthy baby is born….and in your arms….and then your wait is over.

At least that’s what I’m going to do. I will keep waiting….for my time. I know my time will come.

And I will wait.

I must believe that there is a reason for my wait. He has the perfect timing. And I will believe.

I will wait and I will have faith that I will be called from the waiting room…..one day soon.

 

Perspective: Perfect Woman

She’s beautiful.

I look and look again…trying not to stare. But I can’t help it.

She takes my breath away. She smiles. She’s strong. She’s powerful.

She doesn’t feel that way though.

She’s exhausted. She is sick. Her back aches. She doesn’t fit into her clothes.

She has love handles.

She’s irritable. She’s uncomfortable.

Her 2 yr old hangs on her torn shirt.

She complains to strangers. I listen.

She is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She’s short. She’s healthy. She’s perfect. She glows.

How I would love to “be her”.

She doesn’t feel that way though.

She looks at me, she thinks I’m beautiful.

She compliments my hair and my dress.

She tells me she wishes she had my body.

And I tell her, “No…no, you don’t.”

She gets defensive, insists and looks at me puzzled.

I look down and can’t control the tears.

She doesn’t get it….and most don’t.

I look “normal” on the outside…carefree.

But inside, I am a mess.

This body has had surgeries, needles, hormones, drugs, patches, pills, bruises, scars…

Lots of scars.

All covered up, by a pretty dress.

I cover up my tears with excuses and makeup.

I hold it in so that I don’t make others uncomfortable.

Yet, I am always uncomfortable.

So, she doesn’t know. And I can’t speak.

She looks offended. She thinks I’m rude. Inconsiderate. Selfish.

She doesn’t get it.

She grabs her bag and her child and hurries out the door.

She is pregnant.

I am not. And have never been.

Not by choice. But by the choice of this body.

I sit in stillness. My heart beats fast. I feel hopeless. I feel insecure. I feel alone.

No one understands.

I can’t explain it. I look normal. I look happy. I look healthy.

I look beautiful.

On the outside.

But on the inside, I am not.

She wishes to be me and I wish to be her.

Perspective.

Perfect Woman.