All I ever wanted to be was a mother. I dreamed of playing with my children all day, of family dinners around our cherry wood table. I longed to feel the pudgy, sticky fingers of a toddler wrap around my own, to see my infant’s toothless grin, to hear the first time my child told me he loved me.
The appointment was at noon. My husband took the day off work. I took extra care picking out my clothes, putting on my make-up. We were both excited. This appointment was the start of something wonderful in our lives. After months of unsuccessfully trying to become pregnant with the baby we both longed for, we finally had an appointment with one of the country’s top fertility specialists. This was it. We would finally get the family we dreamed of.
I walked into the cool room. The walls were covered in photos of babies he’d successfully helped mothers conceive. I wanted one. I wanted my child’s photo on that wall for the world to see. When we were finally called into the office I was disappointed that it wasn’t an examining room, but the doctor’s private office. There he explained the process we’d go through.
It took weeks. They took liters of blood from me and my husband. I had a variety of sometimes painful tests. I had x-rays, ultrasounds and was poked and prodded everywhere. And with every needle stick, every ultrasound, every vial of blood they took, I smiled. My baby was that much closer.
Time ticked slowly by before our next appointment. We’d get the results from the tests and begin our cycle of treatment. At the end of the cycle, Lord willing, I’d be pregnant. The night before our appointment, we went out to dinner and quietly shared our hopes and dreams for our future children.
We arrived at the doctor’s office and the nurse politely asked us to follow her. This time I wasn’t surprised when she led us to the doctor’s private office. I was surprised to hear, “I’m sorry. You’ll never carry a baby.” I didn’t hear what else he said. When he asked if I had any questions I was speechless.
I watched my dream slip slowly from my fingers.
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