October 25th, 2016.

I can hear the sound of the treadmill belt running constantly at an impressive speed and I know it's my husband giving all he has to pass a physical capabilities test for a job in the career he has only dreamed of for as long as I can remember. This early October morning is brisk. More than brisk, cold even and I don't think the nurses in this waiting room are aware. I can feel the twinge of a running air conditioning unit vent almost right above my head. To add to my discomfort, the nurse at the nearest registration desk is unnecessarily loud to patients on the phone and even coworkers a few feet from her. The man sitting opposite me is visibly uncomfortable in these chairs that harbor no regard for the (even slightly) overweight. The unforgiving crash that the waiting room door makes no matter how gingerly you attempt to open or shut it is enough to drive any sane person mad.

Then suddenly, every little peeve and nuisance I am facing is seemingly halted by the sound of a baby's cooing whimper from I assume around the corner I am seated. The inevitable twitch of jealousy, heart ache, but also joy overcomes my heart and I am smiling to myself while choking back a single tear. See, my husband I have been trying to conceive our own child for what seems like a century, but in reality, a couple of years. Which I know is incredibly shy of some of other women's lengthy struggle. Which is why I know I am not alone when I feel this gentle stab straight through any part of me that matters when I hear a baby's soft voice break the outward silence and quiet the inner chatter. Times like these are the hardest because you know it isn't right but you keep screaming to yourself "when will it be MY turn? When will I know the blessing of being a mother? When, when WHEN?"

And then the soft, cracked, familiar voice of comfort that is still fighting in me despite all odds says "one day...one day..."