Hope After Loss: Baby Steps

I’m going to interrupt the “all about me” story this week to hopefully change your perspective or at least make you think a little harder before reacting.

The dreaded waiting room.

I absolutely hate waiting and I dread doctor’s office waiting rooms. No one is happy if they wait more than 15 minutes to get called back to see a doctor. You have an appointment time and that’s when you want to be seen, but let’s take a minute and really think about the waiting room.

Let me first give you a few ideas of what may be happening in the waiting room around you. You may have a newly pregnant woman who is going to hear her baby’s heartbeat for the first time. You might be beside someone who is there for a follow-up after just losing their baby. You may be beside someone a couple of weeks away from delivery, but they’ve been told their baby won’t make it past birth, or maybe they are finding out the gender. You might be beside someone who is in year three of infertility and today is another appointment with more “let’s try this.” Maybe you aren’t even at an Obgyn and you’re beside people who are sick, going to get lab results, or they are just having a follow-up. You never know what the person beside you is thinking about, going through, or getting ready to face.

Then you get called back. It’s your turn in the room, but only to wait a little bit longer for the doctor. Then the doctor comes in and gives you whatever the news may be. Good, bad, or ugly.

Conversations are held. Questions are asked. The next steps are discussed. It may not be an easy conversation. It might not be full of butterflies and rainbows. Imagine for a minute you’re the person in the room needing extra time. You might have just found out your labs aren’t normal, maybe you have a lump you’re concerned about, or maybe something didn’t look right on the ultrasound and they are taking more pictures.
Sometimes what was supposed to be a happy 15-minute “everything looks good” time slot turns into something no one was prepared for.

I found myself sitting in a room, just me and my husband. I walked into that room with joy and hope and every bit of that had been ripped out of me. In fact, at that moment it felt like my life was ending. We were told to take our time and exit out the back door when we were ready.
At that moment, nothing else mattered. You aren’t thinking about the person with an appointment after you who needs that room. That day, it took EVERYTHING in me to pick myself up out of the chair and walk out that back door.

Now, when I’m in the waiting room, almost three years past my first miscarriage, I look at who’s around me. I consider the stories that may be in the room. I am the person who sits with an empty womb at an Obgyn office. I sit waiting to hear what the lab results mean this time. I sit praying that there is one more thing we can try.

So, I want to encourage you. The next time you’re waiting, stop, think, and pray.
You have no idea what the person who just walked through the door before you is now dealing with.