Assignment: Imagine this were your last day on earth. What is the most important thing you would want people to see about your past?
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The Infertility Support Group Meeting started at 6. According to the flyer the meeting would be held in the same building that housed the Infertility Clinic. It was scheduled to last 3 hours.
I was looking forward to the meeting, as it presented an opportunity to network with women sidelined with the same issue as me, infertility.
I arrived early. Rather than use the elevator I decided to climb the open stairway to the fourth floor. Once there I roamed up and down the long hallway. Flyers pinned to corkboards outside of closed office doors announced office hours, class enrollment and clinical support. I read them all. Satisfied there was nothing left to find, I took a seat on the cold floor, stretched out my legs, and began reviewing missed calls and voicemail on my work cell phone. As it approached 6 o’clock more women began to arrive and as they did I checked each of them out. I was eager to finally put a face to this condition. What do infertile women look like? Was there some revealing characteristic that we all had in common, too tall, too skinny, stringy hair, crooked teeth, what was it?
A woman arrived carrying a clipboard and set of keys she used to open meeting room 401. She herded the group together and asked that we file in behind her. We claimed seats around tables that had been arranged in a large pod. As we sat quietly facing one another I began to scan the room. I was looking for someone familiar, I was looking for me. The support group leader introduced herself as Penny, a nurse at Stanford who had a strong interest in helping women through the process of infertility. Penny was taller than average with short, light brown hair. She was lean, with strong shoulders and arms. I wondered what she did to keep fit, running, yoga, swimming perhaps.
Penny started, “We do have some new woman joining us this evening. So I would like us to start with introductions. Why don’t you each introduce yourself and then offer a brief history of your individual infertility journey? Flora lets start with you.”
“Hi, my name is Flora,” she said and began to cry. The woman seated next to her handed her a box of Kleenex. Tears left streaks of cleanliness behind as they rolled down her perfectly made up face. Every strand of her jet-black hair was in its proper place. She was petite and perfect. “My husband and I have been trying to get pregnant for 10 years. I am 44 and the doctor says I don’t have many eggs left. My FSH is elevated and my blood work isn’t great. I have had 5 IVF cycles thus far and we’re starting another in the summer. My husband is not open to adoption so this next cycle is my last hope.” She cried harder.
My heart broke for Flora. She was a beaten woman. For a moment I felt I was attending a funeral for Flora’s dream of motherhood. I would support Flora as she traveled this last road to nowhere but I doubted that Flora could support me in my journey. She had nothing left to give.
How could I avoid becoming Flora? What was my plan? I knew I would be a mother as sure as I knew that the sun would rise again the next morning, I knew the name “mama” was in my future.
Maybe Flora at one time believed in motherhood the way I did, but somewhere along the way her hope died. Disappointment after disappointment eventually exhausted her. I knew the importance of never letting that happen- never letting hope die. My plan was to keep my mind open to all options. Visualize what it was that I was asking for and then wait patiently. As one option no longer appeared viable, I accepted it, mourned it and moved on. I stayed true to my plan and in time I became a mother through adoption and then again via a natural pregnancy.
If I were gone tomorrow I would want my past to reveal to others that I believed in the power of hope.
I wonder what happened to Flora, as well as many of the other women we met in that group.