My late night rambling.. why infertility kind of feels like waiting in line at the supermarket
Infertility is like waiting in line at the deli counter in Coles.
You grab a ticket and see you're number 22. Excellent, you think. There are only a few people in front of you.
You stare at the cases of meats, cheese and fish, filled to the brim with everything you have been hoping for.
You know exactly what you want. It seems relatively straightforward.
Besides a bit of waiting and patience, you should have what you came for shortly.
The lady behind the counter calls number 19, then 20, then 21.
You stand up a little straighter, ready for your turn.
Then she calls number 23.
You wait for her to realise the mistake.
Then she calls 24.
And 25.
Nobody seems to notice except you.
"That's weird," you think.
So you take another ticket.
This time you're number 47.
The queue is longer now.
The waiting is harder.
But surely your number will be called eventually.
Somehow you're skipped again.
And again.
And again.
After a while, you stop looking forward to your turn.
Instead, you spend your time wondering what you're doing wrong.
Did you take the wrong ticket?
Are you standing in the wrong place?
Did everyone else get instructions that you somehow missed?
Meanwhile, new customers walk up to the counter.
Some get served almost immediately.
Some finish their order, leave, come back for seconds, and get served again before your number has ever been called once.
People passing by tell you not to worry.
"They’ll call your number when you least expect it."
"Just relax."
"The deli works differently for everyone."
They're trying to be kind, but they're already carrying bags full of everything they came for.
You smile and thank them anyway.
What else can you do?
You're absolutely starving, and what you want is sitting right there in front of you.
You've been patient.
You've followed the rules.
You've taken every ticket you've been given, and still every time the number board lights up, it seems to skip right past yours.
But the truth is, you'd stand in that queue forever if it meant one day hearing your number called.
So you take a deep breath, step back up to the counter, and pull another ticket from the machine.