I love a pregnant moment in the Olympics
Originally written 11/17/14
I love watching the podium ceremonies of the Olympics. No matter what country wins, my favorite part is watching the face of the gold medal winner as their country's anthem is played...as they tear up thinking about the years of hard work and road blocks and injuries they overcame to win...how all that pain, sacrifice, and pushing past days they wanted to quit all paid off in the end...and they think of all their loved ones, teammates and coaches who supported and cheered them on along the way...
I can't say I've ever trained for the Olympics, but I've compared this whole infertility journey to a seemingly never ending race of hurdles. Some hurdles are bigger than others, but rest assured, as soon as you jump over one, there's another waiting for you in the distance and you can't control how fast you get there...or if you clear the hurdle. It is hard to see the end and it's terrifying to think that you might not get a chance to get up and keep going if the wrong hurdle trips you up...you might have to start all.over.again.
When I walked in my doctor's office this morning to get blood drawn after waiting 10 excruciatingly long days to see if implantation had worked or not, there were Christmas stockings hung under the check-in window. Stockings! V and I had walked in for our first appointment back in May.
I was thinking back to that serious couple I saw in the waiting room on our implantation day (you haven't read about them yet) and it later dawned on me that I had no idea how many times they had sat there waiting...how many times they prepared for that day. I didn't know how many times I might have to sit there waiting.
Blood was drawn at 8:30 AM. "I'll call you when I get the results back this afternoon," my nurse said on my way out.
I tried to prepare myself equally for both outcomes and for the disappointment the call might bring later...that if it didn't work this time, I couldn't try again until January. I would use the in between time to get swole. I haven't had a proper work out since my post surgery in June and I am ready to "train" again. I am ready to try and get cut triceps and toned abs again. I could use the time to destroy some lingering flab. Ha, who am I kidding? These will be my goals for the rest of my life. Even when I end up on My 600-lb Life, I'll be earnestly telling the doctor that I am "training" to lose that lingering 10 pounds.
Let's just go with, I'm looking for that serotonin high.
I put together a cardio playlist and looked up some interval work outs to be ready because if the answer was a no go on implantation, work out reinstatement was today!
I always have to have a back up plan.
As I was driving to pick Alex up from school, the nurse called. It was really hard to read her tone in the greeting formalities, probably because my heart was beating in my ears...
Finally...
She said, "Congratulations, you're pregnant."
She said, "Congratulations, you're pregnant."
She said, "Congratulations, you're pregnant."
She actually only said it once. I had to repeat it a few times to myself.
I said, "really?" fighting the urge to lose my mind until we hung up. I had actually convinced myself that it didn't work during the 7 hours I had waited. She said some more stuff, blah blah, blah bye.
Immediately upon hanging up, I cried. I cried the ugly cry. I cried uncontrollably. I was able to finally let go of 5ish years of holding it together and staying strong (for the most part) in this particular department of my life. I couldn't stop. It was truly a movie moment of laughing and crying and making weird noises, hiccuping and sounding crazy.
It was cathartic and by the end, I felt empty in the best way possible. That's a long time to hold on to a wish.
Even though the hurdles continue, getting pregnant was kind of a huge one that I've been able to see for quite some time now, but haven't been able to get there. Things might go terribly wrong later down the road and this particular race might end...maybe even tragically, but for this one magnificent day, I am celebrating my Olympic moment on the podium (like, a mini podium in the middle of a race...) and praising God for allowing us to get this far. I can put away the never ending worry that will soon overshadow this delight until tomorrow.
Onward we go...
I love watching the podium ceremonies of the Olympics. No matter what country wins, my favorite part is watching the face of the gold medal winner as their country's anthem is played...as they tear up thinking about the years of hard work and road blocks and injuries they overcame to win...how all that pain, sacrifice, and pushing past days they wanted to quit all paid off in the end...and they think of all their loved ones, teammates and coaches who supported and cheered them on along the way...
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| truth. |
I can't say I've ever trained for the Olympics, but I've compared this whole infertility journey to a seemingly never ending race of hurdles. Some hurdles are bigger than others, but rest assured, as soon as you jump over one, there's another waiting for you in the distance and you can't control how fast you get there...or if you clear the hurdle. It is hard to see the end and it's terrifying to think that you might not get a chance to get up and keep going if the wrong hurdle trips you up...you might have to start all.over.again.
When I walked in my doctor's office this morning to get blood drawn after waiting 10 excruciatingly long days to see if implantation had worked or not, there were Christmas stockings hung under the check-in window. Stockings! V and I had walked in for our first appointment back in May.
I was thinking back to that serious couple I saw in the waiting room on our implantation day (you haven't read about them yet) and it later dawned on me that I had no idea how many times they had sat there waiting...how many times they prepared for that day. I didn't know how many times I might have to sit there waiting.
Blood was drawn at 8:30 AM. "I'll call you when I get the results back this afternoon," my nurse said on my way out.
I tried to prepare myself equally for both outcomes and for the disappointment the call might bring later...that if it didn't work this time, I couldn't try again until January. I would use the in between time to get swole. I haven't had a proper work out since my post surgery in June and I am ready to "train" again. I am ready to try and get cut triceps and toned abs again. I could use the time to destroy some lingering flab. Ha, who am I kidding? These will be my goals for the rest of my life. Even when I end up on My 600-lb Life, I'll be earnestly telling the doctor that I am "training" to lose that lingering 10 pounds.
Let's just go with, I'm looking for that serotonin high.
I put together a cardio playlist and looked up some interval work outs to be ready because if the answer was a no go on implantation, work out reinstatement was today!
I always have to have a back up plan.
As I was driving to pick Alex up from school, the nurse called. It was really hard to read her tone in the greeting formalities, probably because my heart was beating in my ears...
Finally...
She said, "Congratulations, you're pregnant."
She said, "Congratulations, you're pregnant."
She said, "Congratulations, you're pregnant."
She actually only said it once. I had to repeat it a few times to myself.
I said, "really?" fighting the urge to lose my mind until we hung up. I had actually convinced myself that it didn't work during the 7 hours I had waited. She said some more stuff, blah blah, blah bye.
Immediately upon hanging up, I cried. I cried the ugly cry. I cried uncontrollably. I was able to finally let go of 5ish years of holding it together and staying strong (for the most part) in this particular department of my life. I couldn't stop. It was truly a movie moment of laughing and crying and making weird noises, hiccuping and sounding crazy.
It was cathartic and by the end, I felt empty in the best way possible. That's a long time to hold on to a wish.
Even though the hurdles continue, getting pregnant was kind of a huge one that I've been able to see for quite some time now, but haven't been able to get there. Things might go terribly wrong later down the road and this particular race might end...maybe even tragically, but for this one magnificent day, I am celebrating my Olympic moment on the podium (like, a mini podium in the middle of a race...) and praising God for allowing us to get this far. I can put away the never ending worry that will soon overshadow this delight until tomorrow.
Onward we go...
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