The Waiting

I'm sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, head bowed.




The nurse calls me back and asks me to step on the scale. My mind is racing:

"What if this is the thing? What if this scale is the key to why we're not getting pregnant?"

I can't look at the number on the scale. It sends me into a tailspin every time, and I'm convinced anxiety adds 10 pounds so I just refrain from looking. The nurse says nothing and I toy with the idea of begging her to tell give me a sign that I passed this first test and I don't have to worry. I want her to tell me everything is okay.

But I keep quiet.

Down the hall, to the exam room, we go. Once I'm seated, the questions start. The questions I dread answering, the questions that can usually be answered "yes" or "no" but I feel I have to go into much more detail on because there are so many emotions wrapped up in these answers:

"Are you pregnant?"

"No, ma'am, but I'd like to be! My husband and I got married in September and we are trying to get pregnant. I was on birth control but I got off about 5 months ago and I'm going to be 34 so I need to get checked...I mean I want to get checked...."

On and on I go, while the nurse listens to my every word: my rambling is nothing new to her but she humors me and lets me go on until I awkwardly stop and say "I'm so sorry. I just came here because I want to know if I'm okay....I just want to know if we're going to be okay....if we're going to be able to have a baby...."

She smiles. "It's okay. The doctor will be in shortly and she will answer all your questions."

Alone again, I sit with my head bowed.




I have so many questions and I feel silly for not knowing the answers. I think I'm healthy, but am I really? I think I'm normal, but am I really? I think my body is ready but is it really? I want a timeline, I want definitive answers. I want to know the intricate workings of my body. I want a plan. 

I start blaming myself. It's hard for me not to. What if it's me? What if it's those diet pills I took in college or what if that birth control I took that gave me 2 periods a month messed me up before I went to my doctor and got a better brand? What if I'm overweight? What if it's too much caffeine? Or pizza? I'm ashamed that I don't understand my own body.

Why doesn't anyone tell you how hard this is? Why doesn't anyone talk about this part?!

I wish I could tell you I left the doctor with answers that day. I didn't. I wish I could tell you I have it all figured out now. I don't. I was told to keep waiting, keep trying, keep doing what we're doing. I was told it could take a year. I was told it could be next month. It's a process, the doctor said. 

We are in the middle. We are in the waiting. This is my least favorite part. Patience is not one of my defining characteristics, hell I called almost everyday to try to move up this doctor's appointment! I am a "get things done" kind of girl; a doer, a mover, a shaker....I want to be a baby maker. And I have to wait. I struggle with the middle. I struggle with the waiting. But what other choice do I have? I have no control over this. So here I sit, in the metaphorical waiting room of this season of my life and I'm praying: I'm praying Kyle and I will be parents this year. I'm praying I will see that ginger I love so much hold our child, who will hopefully have his hair and my Grandma's blue eyes. I'm praying to feel kicks in my belly, to hear a heartbeat, to love our baby and watch them grow. I know when the day comes, we will be ready, we will be blissfully tired and we will be so full of joy. But, for now, the difficult task of patience. For now, the difficult task of grace. For now, we are waiting, praying, anxious. For now, we are in the middle. 

Parenthood is already teaching me so much, and I'm not even pregnant yet. 

Coffee Date Vol 2

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