One of “Those” Days: Infertility Then and Perspective Now


I am trying to find the silver lining as I write this to what overall was pretty much a crappy day.

Yes, the weather outside was a beautiful 80-ish with blue skies and birds chirping outside my window.

I am sitting in a comfortable office chair writing this, sipping on my 5th cup of coffee of the day.

All tools I learned over a decade ago when our infertility shrink made us wear a rubber band to remind us of the things we’re thankful for.

Back then, bad days always revolved around infertility, and stress over whether uterine lining was optimal, whether I was wearing loose enough boxers, whether the newest IUI, GIFT, IVF, ICSI, etc was going to finally take us out of the parenthood purgatory we seemed to be lost in.

Really bad days involved chemical pregnancies, miscarriages, and multiple phone calls from friends, family members and co-workers that they were “surprise” expecting kid number 1, 4, 12, 24.

Things have changed a little bit.

This morning started with Elliana melting down because she sprung a math test on us last night and hasn’t quite mastered the concept of fraction conversions.  I tried to help her, but after the second or third fit of tears, I realized she was just gonna have to wing it and hope for the best.

The wonderful world of end of month mortgage closings was filled with all kinds of fun filled hoops of fire to jump through in the interest of saving my customers a few hundred dollars a month no matter how upside down they are.  I come prepared for battle knowing that there are layers of regulatory personnel trying to validate their jobs, by making mortgage lending synonymous with prostate exams.

That was the bad day stuff, circa 2013.   Not really that big a deal when I compare it to the old infertility fun factory bad days.

But today there was some “really bad day” stuff.

I guess with a silver lining, if those rubber band tricks hold up.

Lisa’s mom found out she’s going to have to have chemo for the next five months.

The good news is that the treatment regimen has a great prognosis for life without cancer when all is said and done.

But it still sucks that she even has to go through it.

This is one of those times that harkens back to infertility.

There isn’t really any way to soften the reality of how Lisa views what her mom is going through.

But I can be there with my shoulder so her tears have a soft place to fall.

Be there to listen, when she needs to cry, scream, yell, or just needs a sounding board for all she will inevitably be facing.

I pray that God will give Lisa and her mom peace amid this storm. and help them both to look up every once in awhile for those silver linings that can be so hard to find during days like today.


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