Jessica and I each sat within a plush swivel chair facing the welcoming side of an ornately sculpted wooden desk. The sun glared through the office windows as the weather was near perfect. Hand in hand, we waited patiently with nerves building…this appointment would determine whether or not we would be able to start a family created from our own genetics. The Doctor who would most likely be guiding us through the embryo process was running late, I’m sure there’s some kind of rule within the medical world advising these docs on punctuality. “Rule 34: All medical personnel consulting patients on sensitive matters of extreme significance must arrive no sooner than one half hour beyond the scheduled appointment time.” Jerks. Anyway, so a lot has happened in the last year…cliff notes version; married one year ago, her father diagnosed with an incredibly serious brain tumor 6 months prior, Jess diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer 1 month prior, her temp health insurance was terminating due to the recent diagnosis and we’re temporarily living in Houston to shop treatments. There were many good aspects though…we had each other, we believed in each other and we trusted each other. We had support, so much support…family, friends, our church, acquaintances, and even complete strangers. We were absolutely humbled and floored by the massive support we received from countless individuals showing aid through donations, prayers, gifts and ultimately emotional, mental, physical and spiritual encouragement. I am still in awe at the overwhelming response to our plea for aid. And lastly we had our faith.
It was like being in an existential pressure cooker…make these life and death decisions and hurry the hell up! Everyone was urging us to begin treatment…Immediately!!!…but we didn’t buckle, instead we stuck to our gut feelings, kept believing, kept praying and never lost hope. While cycling through monotonous treatment consults, they broke the bad news regarding fertility after chemotherapy. So here we are, putting forth our best effort to be patient…waiting to endure yet another intensely pivotal meeting. I repeatedly removed my hand from hers, wiped the perspiration onto my pants, then dashed it back into place as if my haste reduced the tension. She smiled so sweetly, her eyes telling me once again she didn’t mind my sweaty palms. The doc walked in, he was a tall, light skinned African American gent, “So! Ya’ll wanna get pregnant!” he shouted cheerily. Widened eyes radiated as a partial smile streamed across his face. An expectant brow stretched outwards, anticipating our matched enthusiasm as he sunk into his chair. “Not exactly, my wife has been diagnosed with cancer. We are here to learn about your embryo program.” I replied conservatively. As if to match my sobering tone, “Oh…Eh-Hem…alrighty then. Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He shuffled through desktop paperwork with the “exaggerated white guy voice”, you know the one everyone uses to impersonate the dorky white guy who can’t dance. He went from a relaxed, hip southern doc to an uptight, straight laced nerd in 0.3 seconds. I squeezed her hand and she squeezed mine right back as we inaudibly expressed our initial feelings for the embryo process. “Should I just use my bare hands to choke him or should I use his tie…that’s a nice tie, maybe Hermes…I’ll use my hands.” I monologued as my teeth ground away another layer of enamel. But we clenched hands because it was literally hysterical, we joked about it for years afterwards…his opening line, the way he transitioned into embodying solemnity was something straight out of a SNL skit. In the upcoming months, I would impersonate this doc who was, well I guess impersonating me…to the tune of Jess in hysterics as we reminisced. It still makes me nod with a smirk.
After a bit of waiting, checking, waiting, checking…Jess and I received the second best news on our voyage through the Houston days. “You guys are ideal candidates, we can initiate the hormone treatment immediately…Oh and you’ll be able to carry your own embryos after the cancer is in remission.” Our hands embraced fully, we swiveled in our chairs to gaze into one another’s being, tears streamed as she pulled a hand away to cover her mouth. We couldn’t speak…there were no words to express thee most incredulous moment which continued to build with unfathomable elation. We literally felt as if we had just been told we were going to be parents. We finally succumbed to our emotions, embracing within one another’s arms, holding onto this moment and making the doctor wait no less than one half hour.
There are always blessings, sometimes hidden, within even the most arduous of challenges, this is one in which I will cherish eternally.
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