A Women's Waiting Room

A detailed rant about all my tears today and the ups and downs of womanhood.

So I sort of had a break down today, but I got to share it with some strangers that gave me some perspective. I went in for my second IUI procedure. I left the house in a bad mood with a seemingly horrible, unfix-able and unfair problem AND very mad at my husband. I got halfway to the freeway when I realized I forgot both my phone and my book. I couldn't turn around because of the nature of an IUI, and I couldn't call Tim to say I was sorry as I had planned to do moments after leaving the house. I also couldn't call any of my sisters or girlfriends to help me work through my issues. And, to top if off, I knew I didn't have a good book to read while I would wait at the doctor's office for over an hour.

When I got to the appointment, the receptionist sent me straight to the business office to pay my bill in full. This was a shock since I had voluntarily called two days before and payed last months bill, and when I called they asked how much of my bill I wanted to pay. I had payed it all, of course. I kindly explained to the horrible person at the counter that I just pain this same amount two days ago, and I had not planned on paying it again right away. I started to tear up and she started to argue and bring a neighbor in on the action. I told her to forget it. I paid the bill while she continued to give me attitude. I still didn't have my phone, and I really needed to talk to Tim to complained about this big mean woman and to tell him how much I love him.

I found a seat in the waiting room and surrendered to a Parenting Magazine (although I am a die-hard Parents Magazine reader.) Within minutes a very happy woman walked in with her 7 week old, her 1-year-old son and her mother. I wanted to puke on them. I tried to focus on my magazine, but I welled up a few times if I thought about the woman at the counter, the woman next to me, my unsolved sadness at home or my overall crazy stress.

A few minutes later a girl my age walked in and tried to explain something to the receptionist. She stopped to cry a few times, and I realized she was having a miscarriage. I started to bawl. I just cried right there in the waiting room. I had to. It was just too sad. There was just too much sadness in the room. I could feel her energy, and it overwhelmed me. I tried to clear myself up, but I just kept remembering her pain. I'd look at her, and I'd start to cry all over again.

So, to try to distract myself, I looked up to another corner of the waiting room. I noticed another woman my age sitting 7 seats away from her husband. They were trying to quietly talk out a fight they were having. She was clearly out of her mind with anger and grief at whatever he did. I heard her say, "But you knew I was upset, and you didn't even try to make me feel better." It was like a script of mine. I wanted to hug her. I understood. But I could feel her tension. It made me cry. I just wanted to tell her that nothing is that bad. He'll understand later and say sorry so she should just enjoy her ultrasound.

I tred to focus on my magazine, but I keep looking at the miscarrying girl, the anger girl, the happy new mom, the wonderful Grandmother. I thought about the horrible woman in the business office, the nice receptionists, the woman who wheeled in her brand new stroller while staring endlessly at her new born. And in that moment we all represented womanhood at various stages of life (or on any given day.) It is intense to be a woman. We're everywhere. We're a little crazy. We're that Garth Brooks song, "She's Fire and Ice." We go through everything. We endure. We overcome. We cry. We laugh. We try. We learn. And Sometimes we just wait. So I just let my tears pour out every few minutes, and when I finally got to the procedure room and the nurse asked me, "How are you today?", I just said "fine" in a not so fine voice like Eeyore because that is truly how I felt.

When it was all over, I rushed home to apologize to my husband who I love so much. I sped all the way, and I when I threw open the front door, he said, "Hey, Mommy's home, Quinn. How did it go, babe?" And he had no I idea I'd left in a huff or that I had not taken my phone.

Oh, Ladies. It is just exhausting sometimes.