Yesterday, a sweet friend of mine went into Labor and Delivery to have her miracle.
Heather and I have never met in person. We became friends on a photography forum. There was a sub forum for Infertility and some how we hit it off. We are the same age but we have different diagnosis. It didn't matter, the journey's had been the same. She was very comforting through my first IVF. When it came time for her IVF, I cheered her on, sending her good luck notes, and even a special care package. I was delighted that her first was successful.
She's picked me up when I have been at my lowest. Even though we only communicate through facebook, or text message, she is my savior. She understands the true heart ache of infertility and the continuing anxiety it brings into pregnancy. She has never once thought I was being irrational. She said pleasing words time and time again as I fell deeper and deeper. And the day of my BFP, she was one of the first to know, complete with pictures of pee sticks. She was and still is my biggest cheerleader. Hundreds of miles away, cheering me on.
As she went into the hospital yesterday, I sent her one last message of encouragement. I told her that day is the day she had been waiting for. All the needles, the poking, the prodding are all done and the pain is in the past. The painful part is over.
I didn't really feel the impact of that statement until later that morning. We were sitting in church, the organist and pianist playing a duet of Amazing Grace. I wanted to cry right there. It was true. All the pain of infertility was much more intense then that which would come with child birth. I'm not fearful of delivery, and maybe this is why. I know what I've been through and how physically and emotionally hard it has been to get there. At the point of delivery, I am ready.
I still waiting to hear word on Baby Boys arrival. I don't want to pester too much. I know she will tell me as soon as she can. All I can do now is pray for a safe arrival into the world.
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