Tuesday, December 15, 2015

A Mother's Heart

You leave your doctor’s office with a heavy heart.  The news was not what you wanted, you were hoping you were finally pregnant, but no, it wasn’t to be this month.  When are you finally going to be able to hold your newborn in your arms? 
You dream about it.   Although your friends are supportive, they have toddlers and newborns of their own.  On the other hand, your arms remain empty.   Your heart yearns for what never seems to happen.  How much more can you take emotionally?  Then there are also the financial worries which you have to think about.
Your cellphone rings.  It’s your spouse, Ted.  He  is asking what happened.  You can hardly get it out that yet again, you’re not pregnant.  The procedure didn’t work, another chance at IVF down the drain.  Ted tries to calm you down, but your heart is almost inconsolable.   After a few minutes, time spent mostly with you in tears, you tell Ted you’ll talk to him that night when he gets home from work.
You get into your car to drive back to your work.  Before going in, you clean the makeup off your face which has become so tear stained that your mascara is smeared.  You put a ‘fake smile’ on your face and walk back into the office.  Telephone calls from sales people need your attention.  You pick up the phone receiver to get busy, at least your heart can be distracted temporarily. 
That night, Ted just holds you on the couch, and lets you cry until you’re out of tears.  The decision as to whether to try IVF for a third time, can wait until another day. 
That night, yet again, you dream about your newborn son plagues your sleep.  Sometimes you’re comforted by the dream, but tonight you’re not.  You awake the next morning with a wet pillow, you’ve been silently crying.
Ted is in the shower, you get up, put a robe on and walk into the kitchen to start the coffee maker.  Another day, maybe, just maybe, that magical day will come when you’re told by your doctor you are indeed pregnant.  You have to hold onto hope, hope in the process eventually working.  Hope that your arms won’t stay empty forever.  For the time being the door to the nursery will stay closed.  Its neutral colors, ready-made crib, infant blankets and neatly folded newborn clothes will just have to wait a little while longer. 
After his shower, Ted walks into the kitchen.  He gives you a tender hug and a kiss on your cheek.  He then reaches for his coffee mug and turns to face you.  “So, when do you want to try again, honey?  You decide, I’ll leave it up to you.”
“I’m scheduled to attend a conference next month.  So how about trying two months from now?”
“Fine, just tell me when to show up at your doctor’s office to do my donation.  I’ll leave it up to you to make the appointment.  I best get going, otherwise I’m going to be late for work.  Talk to you tonight.”

“Bye.”  

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