At that moment, on that night, I etched a line in the sand. And there it rested, that line and me, full of bitter ache and partial surrender. And, oh, I don’t know. I suppose I did it because of the absurdity of it all — the crazy diets and incessant waiting. Always waiting. But really, it was the chronic frustration that did me in. Because how long must I sacrifice that delightly fluffy donut for gluten-free cardboard? How long must I relinquish my paycheck to vitamins and organic and grass fed? How long must the guilt gnaw at my brain after drinking from a plastic water bottle? And is any of this even helping?
And there it is, that line in the sand. Bold. Decisive. Final. I had danced around it for quite some time, always lightly chiseling it out and then allowing my feet to kick up the loose gravel in order to fill it back in. Fight. Surrender. Fight. Surrender. But not this time. No. Because this line, this line has been scissored into my heart. And there will be no capitulation because this… this is it. This is my one last battle cry. My “give it all you got.” My “all in.” And after it’s over? Well, I suppose we’ll cross that rugged, old bridge when it comes.
But I need this… WE need this — a foreseeable end to the madness and guilt stricken world of infertility. And, I assure you, this will not end without a fight. It will be the most ambitious and gutsy fight you ever did see. Scissorkicks to the face, blows below the belt. That sort of thing. Because if after all of this is over, my arms are still burdened with the weight of this longing, I want to know, truly know, that I gave it all. That I fought for you. REALLY fought for you.
And so it begins: September 1, 2015, with a run of engagement lasting for one long and tenacious year. And this time when my doctor says, “no gluten,” I will scarf down those gluten-free bagels with as much enthusiasm as my tastebuds will allow — dairy-free cream cheese and all!
But here’s the thing, it’s only AUGUST 20! And, trust me, we are well aware of the precious time we still have with gluten… and dairy, and refined sugar, and plastic, and phthalates (so long, Fructis! You’ve been a cheap option for mousse in my time of need). So, David did what most husbands would naturally do. He took me on a gluten-infused date…
…where we ate…
And then things got all “hipster” all of a sudden.
…especially when we slipped into this speakeasy.
…which I would tell you about, but then I’d have to… well, we won’t go there.
So, here’s to you, infertility. You’re going down hard.
And if you have any good gluten-free, dairy-free, refined sugar-free recipes, help a girl out and send them my way!