One afternoon almost six years ago to the day, RJ and I sat side by side on a tweed loveseat in our reproductive endocrinologist’s office. We had just completed (another) battery of tests to shore up our diagnosis in an effort to help us chart a course through infertility. With the sun blazing in through the slanted shades, we sat together with anger, despair and disillusionment between us as our compassionate doctor reviewed our options. Towards the end of the conversation, having observed the tears sliding down my once-hopeful face, our good doctor made the following observation, “Mrs. Miller, I’m sensing that your emotional credit card is about at it’s limit right now. I think it might be helpful for you to talk to someone. Before we begin, I’m going to need it to be at zero balance because we’re going to max it out with these procedures we’re talking about.” Beyond all semblance of composure, I took in his kind smile through blurred eyes, nodded and with feelings of both defeat and relief, took the psychologist’s card he offered me. That moment, filled with so much sadness and hope, would initiate some of the most profound healing I have ever known.
This ties into boundaries next time. I promise.