I knew this day was going to be emotional, so I subconsciously planned a hundred things to do in order to keep my mind off of it. What could be so heart-wrenching, you ask?
My last doctor’s appointment with my civilian specialist.
This morning I got up and took care to look extra adorable today. I broke out a super cute, dyed Karen Kane shirt, a pair of short shorts and some platform flip-flops. I did my hair extra cute. Then I went on my way to the base where my husband works.
Any woman out of uniform deserves a double-take on that island. I decided to give them something to see— the shorts, the strut, the head held high. I must have been a sight. My husband found it hilarious; though I know he was secretly proud to be walking next to me.
After I shook up the island, I headed to the sandwich shop, got myself a sammy and shoved it in my purse for the movie. I saw Fright Night, which was actually good— better than I thought it would be at least. Then I went to the Marshall’s next door and shopped around.
I almost walked out of there with a pair of grey canvas boots, a pair of brown Minnetonka moccasins, a men’s plaid shirt, a little black dress and a nightgown— but decided to push the cart into a corner of the store and walk out of there, saving my money.
I got to the doctor’s office just as the In-Clinic Movie of the Day started. It was Avatar, which was mildy pleasing because I adore the movie. Yet irritating at the same time because I wouldn’t be there to watch the entire thing. I decided to read a few chapters of my book, The Mill River Recluse, and zone out for a minute. I’m not bitter, but watching the pregnant women waddle in and out of the clinic is a little frustrating for me.
Forty minutes of being in the waiting room later, I was finally called back into a room. I declined to weigh myself, which is something I always do— I don’t need to know exactly how much I weigh. Then I was ushered back into a room next to the ultrasound room. Thinking back on it now, I know I should have put my earbuds in.
You see, I have the hearing of a Cocker Spaniel. I really do. I can’t be at a concert or a shooting range without my little foamy ear plugs. I carry a set in my purse, just in case the noise level gets too loud. If I’m succumbed to the fever pitch for too long, I’m at risk for having a panic attack. Being on sensory overload for too long is just too much for me to handle.
Well, it was too late before I even thought of putting in my ear plugs. Before I knew it I was listening through the wall to the heartbeat of a woman’s unborn baby. Boom boom boom boom boom, rapid little successive heartbeats. It sounded like something out of my childhood but sped up.
Up until the age of ten I slept with my teddy bear turned on. He had the little speaker box inside of him playing the sound of a mother’s heartbeat in-utero. I couldn’t sleep without him. Hell, I slept with him until I was sixteen, maybe later.
As I sat there all by myself in the little examining room, tears started to well in my eyes. A thousand thoughts ran through my head. Is that ever going to be me? That woman doesn’t know how lucky she is! I hope she’s happy, and I really mean that. How long will it take me to get pregnant? Will IVF work? Will we have to adopt? Will I ever be a parent or will I give up?
The thoughts raced.
That’s when I heard, “It’s a BOY!”
I took deep breaths. I would not cry. I did not cry.
The expectant mother in the next room started crying tears of joy. I let her shed a few tears for me too, even if she didn’t know she was doing it.
I know it will happen for us someday.
I left the office with the overwhelming sense of a door closing. I’m going to be released from that doctor’s office soon. As a matter of fact, I’m calling TRICARE tomorrow to figure it out.
Soon I’ll be able to make my first appointment at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego. It won’t be until then that I will feel the sensation of another door opening.
Until it does, I’m going to try my hardest to stay in this positive state of being.
Without optimism, the weightiness of infertility could end up crushing me.
I won’t let it.
Infertility isn’t going to get me.