The title for this blog has a story of its own. I sort of eluded to it in the blog post about My Story, and it's something I've written about before in many different stages of my life. Remember the Dr. Seuss book Oh, The Places You'll Go!? You know, the one everyone gets as a gift at graduation? Well, I got one from my high school English teacher. She was an amazing mentor and friend to me through high school, and I loved the personalized note she wrote inside the cover. I still display it on a shelf in my house.
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
I love the whole book, but this section has always spoken to me. Maybe because when I got the book I knew I had to spend two years at community college before I could go the university I really wanted to in order to finish my degree. Maybe because I had already been dating my boyfriend for three years, but I knew I still had four more before we could get married. Maybe because I've always been very, very impatient, and it's incredibly hard for me to just wait.
And for those of us on this infertility journey, they're is a whole freaking ton of waiting. The dreaded two-week wait after ovulation before finding out if you're pregnant. Then finding out you're not pregnant and needing to wait two more weeks for ovulation to try again. Waiting for test results, waiting for the "all clear" from the doctor. Waiting for appointment day to come. And maybe the worst yet: waiting in the waiting room.
I'm kind of an awkward girl, and waiting rooms just seem to bring out the worst in me. Sitting there uncomfortably, surrounded by strangers, trying not to make eye contact, but secretly wondering what they're in for. Maybe that's just me. The sheer number of office waiting rooms I've been in is pretty remarkable...but for many of you, it's been worse. I've read your stories of sitting in the OBGYN office next to pregnant women and women with babies. You've shared your horror stories of waiting in the RE's office, wanting to make conversation with those you know are in the same infertility club with you.
So much of infertility is waiting, it seems. And waiting is probably the worst part. If I could at least be doing something, I would feel better. But I'm stuck in The Waiting Place, waiting for Another Chance and a Better Break.