Why do I find it so easy to talk about other's important/intimate life moments, but some of my deepest ones, stay deep.
The other day I had to ask my parents if they were ok with the sharing of my dad's story via the public web. I hadn't even thought about the fact they may not have wanted everything publicized. Not everyone processes emotions through writing...specifically public writing.
So if I don't have such "issues" divulging information, then why am I keeping this one deep?
I still don't know that answer, but I have (thankfully) talked with some other women in my shoes and they feel the same. It's something that doesn't necessarily draw a stigma, but one that makes us as women feel vulnerable. I think we become vulnerable because it is completely out of our control...
The best way I know how to write this story, is in a narrative...so enjoy.
I'm in an overly stuffy waiting room of my obgyn's office sitting on my hands, and suddenly I realize I am nervous. Nervous because for once, I am the patient and the fear that something may actually be wrong hits me like a ton of bricks...
I suddenly wonder why I didn't bring Joe with me. He is always the calm to my storm and would crack some wise joke that would make me laugh and stop sweating momentarily.
My name is called and I walk back to meet with the ultrasound technician as I am scheduled for both an abdominal and pelvic ultrasound to see if there could possibly be some reason that after 14 months, Joe and I are unable to conceive. (BAM I JUST SAID IT...phew)
She asks me to sit in the chair and I am obviously in the same room where new moms and dads go to see each sonogram as an expectant family. This was not how I pictured my sonogram screen for the first time. At first, I'm sad as I see my name in the upper left hand corner. This space, and this picture are missing something so vital I am so eager to protect. I became bitter and upset for that empty space. I felt like I had a million fingers pointing at me saying, too bad, maybe next time, move on.
Pity party for one...
The tests go smoothly, and I am walked back to that dang stuffy waiting room to wait for the doctor. More sweating, sitting on hands, and nerves ensue. I was relieved that I would be getting answers and that after this appointment I could then reconfigure, plan things out and go from there ( ME, ME, ME).
Hah...what a sense of humor the big man has. Side note...through a lot of things this past year, I have learned I have a SEVERE case of the control freaks.
I digress. The doctor comes in, performs her exam and then nonchalantly says, "Well nothing appears to be wrong. Everything looks healthy, and suitable for a baby". I wait for her to add an "and, but, if, well, etc" but the words never came.
Yes, yes I know, these are wonderful, beautiful words. BUT (and it's always big) why after this amount of time has nothing happened? She proceeded to tell me the next steps which were filled with tests, procedures, medications and prescriptions that floated in one ear and right out the other. Such words intimidated me and could quite possibly not be the right fit for me, but thats a completely different blog post.
And this is where my story lies...out of my hands, my control and up in the air. I have an odd feeling that I'm being taught something here in these moments...