Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Score one for the Wrong Team

The doctor slipped out of the room to give me a minute to change, his words lingering. Nate's breath, still catching in his chest, stumbled through the sentence, "Wow, I've never heard a doctor say that to you before. So bluntly. I needed to hear it." You see I've heard it speculated many a time. As a young girl trying to declare a major in college and again a couple years later, in the heat of grad school with not a man in sight. Too many to put a name to. But lately, I've heard it in cold sterile doctor rooms, on exam tables, and during emotionless procedures. Those words have echoed back at me as I've sat alone in the car heaving sobs from my chests, while in the shower with silent furious tears escaping my eyes, or while looking in the mirror as I grieve and dab away tears of what may never become of my emptiness.

Today, reality looked us dead in the face. It was no longer a question of what might happen or "if" this takes place what will be our next step. Speculations birthed into a definitive. Young girls into wives. A once grad student without love into a 3+ year marriage of wanting to turn a love story into a deeper story of familial love and children. The specialist sent us to an even higher specialist who told us the news: you will not be able to have children on your own.

In an instant, the worst you thought you'd wrapped your mind around has slapped you in the face. You remain as composed as possible. I will not scream. I will not kick. I certainly will not cry. Not here, not now. But, please tell me you prepared for this and you have our parents waiting in the other room. My dad does not rush in to protect me, my mom does not leap forward and take the crushing blow. I look to Nate, his eyes are glued to the doctor. Yes, I should listen too.

Surgery needed. Fertility specialist. lots of money we don't have. Decisions need to happen quickly. I am so sorry someone has yet to tell you this sooner. You should have been told this years ago.

Scheduling, referrals, questions, it's all a mess...

Back to the car, this time with him- tears. Back to the apartment- sobs. Sitting on the couch- crying. Laying in bed- crushed. Phone call with my mom- meltdown.

Reality- 1; Dreams- 0