Next to me, a lady was talking to the secretary. She was in tears. She didn't say much, just that she wanted the doctor to call her and tell what to do next. Then we got on the elevator together while she cried. I felt awful for her. I don't know her exact situation, but I know that feeling of disappointment and hopelessness. I wanted so badly to say something but didn't know what to say.
We got off of the elevator and she held the door for. When I thanked her, with tears in my eyes I told her I was so sorry. She didn't say much, just "I didn't know it would be this hard." My heart broke for her. I honestly didn't have any advice for her. Just a couple of weeks ago I was in her place, in the valley, the dip of the infertility roller coaster. It's awful.
I'm sure she felt so alone in that moment, but I wanted so badly to let her know that she isn't. That someone else understands what's she going through and hurts for her. I don't know her name or her full situation, but it's not hard to guess when you're in that office.
When things were bad for me a couple weeks ago, my husband suggested a support group. Gathering with strangers didn't sound like something I would be interested in. Although, after crying with a complete stranger in a parking lot, it no longer sounds so odd.
Cloth Diaper Revival. I'm a stay at home mom to Noah and a wife to Chas, the cloth diapering dad. I used to be a 3rd grade teacher until I was blessed with the birth of my first child, Noah. I'm currently trying to conceive my second child while struggling with infertility due to PCOS. This series covers my journey and my experiences along the way.