A coffee table covered with the latest magazines.
12 chairs.
1 love seat.
After over a year of treatments and planing my exit, I always opt for a seat near the door because I’m still in denial that I have to be here at all.
Couples sit close enough to touch or are clasping hands.
Coffee is provided on a table, which also houses a plastic container full of pamphlets on pharmacies, insurance coverage and coping advice.
The majority of the patients are tapping away on their phones or have their heads buried in a magazine pretending to be engrossed in an article. Some just stare at the floor.
The uptempo jazz being pumped into the room does zero to alleviate the desperation in the air.
No words are ever spoken apart from the rare, but polite bless you after a sneeze.
Eyes never meet.
Smiles are never shared.
All of us are waiting on the edge of our seats for good news.
The instant the front door is opened, we all jump a little and then silently wonder to ourselves, where is she in her cycle.
One of the cruelest jokes of all is the nurse that calls out our names when it’s our turn is 5 months pregnant.
I loathe the waiting room.
But I continue to have hope.
This adorns one of the walls at my RE’s office.
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Sigh. Hugs to you. With a four year old and then 2 horrible, rare, freakish miscarriages… I am right there with you.
Here’s to hope.
Oh, how I remember that waiting room well. I came to be very jaded about it, and would sneer at the hopeful, fresh-faced couples who were clearly there for their first consultation, when I had been sitting there a year. I’ve been right where you are…
Sending hope to you, always.
This broke my heart. I have so much hope and love for you, my friend. xo
Tonya, if it is your destiny to have just one child and I pray that it is not, I will be forever thankful that the one you have is who he is. In the meantime, keep hoping. We love you and we are hoping too.
Keep your hope Tonya and keep trying.
This is beautiful, my friend. It gave me chills. Oh, I am so hoping for you guys…because your journey just isn’t over yet. xoxo
The waiting room…what an unfortunate but apropos name. I hope you’re not waiting much longer. xo
Sending you hope and hugs, beautiful friend xoxo
Oh, lots of hope, crossing fingers, prayers for you.
And yes, it is just like that.
Oh Tonya you took me right back there. I wish for you very few more visits to that waiting room.
Sending you hope, lots of it. Stay strong. xo
I have great hope for you too T. XOXO
Each year gets harder, especially when ppl around me are delivering their 2nd or third child when we started trying for our first at the same time. 4 years of waiting, doctors, pity from others, awkward silences, bittersweet congratulations, injections, scheduled sex and multiple losses. Hope? It comes and goes. I have it for the most part but there are just some days that I have none and just need to cry. This post was great. I could really relate to it. I wish we would talk about to each other more, in the waiting room.
“I always opt for a seat near the door because I’m still in denial that I have to be here at all.”
Oh honey. Hugs.
my heart is sitting, waiting, holding hope with yours. Always
I’m so weepy when i think of how lucky a baby would be to be part of your life and family.
love you ……xoxoxo
you know my heart hopes for you.
you know my soul prays for you.
when you feel like you can’t hope, know that so SO many people are carrying that hope.
Hope is never dropped in these parts, my friend.
NEVER.