I am a survivor. And sometimes, I tend to wear my ribbons and medals and the medals from hard fought wars clang against each other and I am deaf. I am struck blind by the glint on the gold. And I forget that while I am, indeed, a survivor — I am not the only one.
Doesn’t it just suck when you realize the pity party you’re throwing for yourself is really quite boring?
So after my little pity party, I realized that where I am today is so far from where I was a year ago, where I was five years ago. So far. And we’re ready. As much as any couple who is visiting doctors in order to navigate the perils of ovaries and brain chemistry is actually ready.