The past couple of months have been a whirlwind of doctor’s appointments, blood work, ultrasounds, phone calls, doctor’s bills, and chaos. I’m learning the language of infertility. . . the codes, the abbreviations, the medicines. . . but despite all of the chaos, I’ve had a sort of peace with it all. A feeling that everything is going to be okay. I no longer feel the frenzy of month after month, trying to conceive only to be disappointed again and again.
At this morning’s appointment I was told I would be starting the medication tonight. I’m nervous. Fluttery. Hopeful. But a tiny whisper of fear is closing in. What if it doesn’t work? What if it does? How am I going to handle the wait to see if I’m pregnant? How am I going to handle the disappointment if it takes a few months? Am I ready to be a mom? Is Country ready to be a dad? What about his work situation? So many questions, so many unknowns.
I was on a phone call just a few minutes ago and when I hung up the phone, I heard my co-worker crying at her desk. She sat there, stunned. She was just told that her beautiful 27 year old cousin is probably going to die from pancreatic cancer.