I hate waiting

It seems like all I do anymore is wait. I wait to O, I wait to test, I wait to start my period. I wait. I wait for our new lives to start. I wait to stop feeling . . . sad. And envious.

And now I'm waiting again. Another trip to the dermatologist. Another check-up. Another two spots removed. Another wait. To find out if I'm still clear. Or if it's popped up again. I wait to find out if I can continue to work on waiting on the other stuff.

As usual, my doctor said it didn't look like it was anything to worry about. "Definitely doesn't jump out at me as cancerous." But this time he admitted that the spots didn't look normal. Great. TH told me my body is just exceptionally good at making abnormal cells. Great. That's exactly the skill I want to have. Can I showcase that at our company's talent show? He joked that of the 10 spots I've now had removed, only one has been cancer, so the odds are pretty good that these new ones aren't. I have to admit he has something there--if you have a 20% chance of getting pregnant, and that hasn't happened yet, surely something with a 10% chance would fall in my favor as well, right?

I made the mistake of reading the pregnant check-in on the board today. I only make that mistake once every two months or so. That's how long it takes me to forget how it makes me feel, to read all the happy posts from women who got exactly what they wanted. It probably wasn't the best day for me to make that mistake, considering my morning at the dermatologist, my fear that these spots will come back with results that I'll have to go back to the office "to discuss." But what's done is done and I read it and I spent the afternoon with a boulder on my chest.

Why does it have to be this hard? Why do some women get to skip through life, blithely think, "oh, let's have babies now, that will be fun!" and then get pregnant, like they are checking off a to-do list, pick up milk--check! get a haircut--check! buy birthday present for mom--check! get pregnant--check! It's not just one or two women in my life. I can list four, five, seven, ten off the top of my head. And I know everyone has their own struggles and that no one's life is as easy as it may appear from the outside. But I also know how hard my life is. I know the kinds of things I've had to deal with the past year, the kinds of things my husband has had to deal with, and some days, on the days I have to worry again about fighting cancer, on the days TH breaks down because his mom is not his mom anymore, on the days I read about everyone else who got exactly what they want . . . I just . . . I just . . . hate . . . the wait.

Two days from now, when I hear back from my dermatologist and find out everything's fine, I'll look back on how I'm feeling and laugh at myself. For not being more patient. For not trusting that everything would turn out ok.

And one day, when I'm pregnant, I'll look back on this whole process and laugh at myself. For not being more patient. For not trusting that everything would turn out ok.

But the reality is, in that moment, I will no longer understand this person. I will no longer understand the fear and the angst and the impatience. Knowing how things turn out changes the perspective.

Those who look back with wisdom will never truthfully remember what it felt like to look forward in ignorance.

And I hope I remember in that moment, that this person should not be laughed at for her impatience, for her fear. That is it all real. All justified. All understandable.

I hope I can look back on this person and know that she waited the best she could.