Last night I was at work entering an order into a computer when this man walks by who I recognize - it took me a second before blurting (yelling) out "DR. W!" Uh, yeah - our fertility specialist. What do you say to your former fertility specialist? Well, I felt kind of silly then, but I whipped out pictures of Micah and then thanked him for being so kind to us. All the while he is looking at me, trying to figure out who the heck I am. I explained that it was 3 years ago and I wasn't offended that he didn't remember me. I thanked him again and we said our goodbyes.
Then I cried.
Then I remembered I was at work and there is no crying at work. Not when you wait tables. No one wants a teary-eyed server, after all. I pulled it together and went back to work.
I was really not expecting that reaction. Of course, I wasn't expecting to see Dr. W either, but I couldn't figure out why it made me want to curl up and cry. So in the midst of doing my nightly sidework, I thought about it.
I think, and I'm not sure, that seeing him was a reminder of that desperate time. If there is one word I'd use to describe our time with fertility specialists, it would be desperate. And perhaps seeing my kind doctor's face brought that all back up, in that small moment.
I wanted to sit him down and tell him all about Micah and how lucky we are to have him, and, can you believe it - we're lucky enough to be waiting for another baby? I wanted to thank him for being so dependable and patient with us during one of the darkest times of our lives. I wanted to tell him that our experience with him wasn't a failure. Not at all. It was a stepping stone. He was part of our journey, and without him and his supportive and wonderful staff, perhaps we would not have been strong enough to make the leap from desperate to hopeful.
Maybe we would have. I don't know, but I'm grateful for that time in our lives. And I'm grateful for Dr. W.