Red Adult Drinks

This morning I got a really great phone call from my neighbor, Mari. 

She asked me if I'd be home later. 

She asked if I was allowed to drink any "red adult drinks". 

I laughed. "I think so, " I answered. 

"Good," she said, "because it may be the last drink you have in a long time." 

I laughed again. 

And my laughter almost became tears. 

It was, quite possibly, the coolest way that anyone has shown hope to me in our entire fertility journey. Honestly. It wasn't the timid "We're hoping for you, Emily" kind of statement. It wasn't a short "thinking of you" or "we're praying for you" email. Not that those aren't good, mind you. They are. And they have their place.

But this statement from Mari was the best possible kind of hope ever: It's the "go get 'em tiger" kind of hope. It's the kind of hope that sees into the future and draws all the blessing of it right here into the present. It's the kind of hope you would want if you were a cartoon in one of those ridiculous settings where you had to jump from a high diving board into an itty, bitty bucket of water below. In other words: it's the kind of hope that doesn't see the size of the bucket, but sees the cool soothing water inside it.

From my vantage point, I'm feeling pretty exposed right now. In a moment of stupidity? humility? love? vulnerability? I let just about the entire world know that I'm going through IVF. In essence, I bought a billboard that said, "We want a child and are willing to pay money, sanity and privacy for said child." I let people make strange comments to me about insurance coverage  and multiples. I found myself talking with a select IVF group about IVF lingo. I made an instant connection with a lady in my fertility clinic who brought a baby into the office; fertility issues do that to people. We become instantly open about medical conditions, follicle size and have a way of not blushing when saying the words ovary or sperm. (My male counterpart would disagree with this last statement, by the way.)

But in the end, my friend Mari was the cool balm of hope that I have wanted someone to say for the entirety of this IVF process. But I didn't know I wanted someone to say it to me. Deep in my soul, I wanted someone to say with reckless abandon, "By jove, you're on your way!" 

I know I'm speaking like a crazy woman. And believe me, there have been moments of buzz on these drugs that have caused me to see through time and speak very strange utterances. But I have nothing to lose, do I? 

It may not work, but you know what-- it very well may. And if I'm planning on some future beauty in my life, I want these little follicles inside me to be in a hopeful, happy environment-- now and the flip side. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some drinking to do.