As a mother, I see the world so differently.


Why do people seem to act the way they do?  What makes them want to call only at certain times, and what makes them text all the rest?  Why do people not want to hang out, and if so, is it only because someone else will pay?  What gets media attention, and what is considered old news?  Why does bullying exists, and how does one teach right from wrong without anger or emotions clouding critical thinking, and yet allow pure love to shine through?


Why don’t more people apologize, and why do some think they are never wrong?


Now, I have fully embraced this day-to-day gift I have been given to be a little boy’s mama, but there is one motion that is reoccurring and extremely common from others, especially since I have infertility, and that is “checking the box.”


For those unfamiliar with the term, checking the box is doing the bare minimum.  Only what is necessary.  And most of the time, the person is doing the transaction so they can feel good about themselves, not so much as a care as to what the other person will feel.


IVF is everything but checking the box.


People around those with infertility will often check the box because they simply don’t want to get too involved.  Fear of saying the wrong thing.  Fear of saying too much.  Fear of a long-term pattern of disappointment and heavy emotions that quite frankly, some people just don’t subscribe to.  Fear of someone thinking that it’s not infertility; it’s just that you are not trying enough.


Fear of someone saying there is something wrong with you.


From the moment Dan and I decided that we wanted to have a baby, and even when we were deep into fertility treatments, IVF was never a common motion.  We never felt like we were doing something that we had to do in order to make others happy.  Something that would make people get off our backs about why we still did not have a baby.


IVF was as thought provoking and cognitive of our emotions as anything could possibility be.  I was going through the required motions with medical assistance to create and carry a baby, yes.  But I was doing this for Dan and our future family.  I was doing this for me.  My dream of becoming a mama was down to this final decision before I had to begin thinking in a completely different direction.


I had to learn how to dance in the rain.


IVF was going to be expensive and painful and a total gamble with the dice being my own emotions. I never expected to have a miscarriage and have to go through all the pain again with everything I had riding on the prayer of one last embryo to make it full term.


Then everything changed.  Not because of checking the box but because we believed and cared more than we ever did before.


Sometimes when you dance in the rain, you feel every raindrop for the beauty that it’s worth.  You remember and cherish every step because it’s different than all the rest.  You realize that you will never have this chance again, so you treat it significant because it’s a one-and-done lifetime moment.


Check the box?  No, thank you.


Dance in the rain?  Yes, indeed, and IVF was the most beautiful tune.