Much better than a crockpot

I've been thinking for a long time about how I would like to thank the staff at my RE's office. They really are amazing and I can't imagine what it would have been like to go through all of the stress of infertility without them there supporting me along the way.

So how do you thank people for a kid?

An Edible Arrangement? Healthy and delicious (provided you spring for the chocolate covered strawberries), but insufficient. Cookies? Yummy, but still insufficient. Sincere, handwritten note? Thoughtful and genuine, so let's give it a whirl.

I attempted this note several times to no avail. I sat in front of a blank piece of stationery wrestling with my words. I thought back to the many thank you notes I wrote throughout my life, especially around the time of my wedding.

There was the crockpot......Thank you so much for the baby! I can't wait to try it out once our new kitchen is set up!

The towels....Thank you so much for the wonderful baby! It's so soft and matches our bathroom perfectly!

The check...Thank you so much for your very generous baby. Joe and I will put it towards renovating our new bedroom.

The frame....Thank you so much for the beautiful baby. Every time we look at it, we will think of you.

Hmmm....this isn't quite working out the way I planned. How do you actually thank someone for your child? For starting your family? For the gift of life? For making a dream come true? The bottom line is there are no sufficient words in the English language, nor is there a tangible gift that can be purchased at Macy's that sums up my feelings about the impending arrival of our son.

So I continue to think on it and I've still got nothing, until I remember my post about my first RE visit titled, "A Day of Hope". The last bit of it goes like this:

"I was, and continue to be, overwhelmed that people take on the job of reproductive endocrinologist. This includes the nurses and office staff. I am in awe of them. I try to imagine being in their shoes, giving the news to a hopeful couple that a procedure has failed, taking the call from a pregnant woman who has begun bleeding, holding the hand of a woman trying again after yet another miscarriage. I bear the weight of only my own story while they shoulder the burden of so many women's heartbreaking journeys.

Without a doubt, they are doing God's work."

Deciding that this was the best I could come up with in terms of articulating my gratitude, I print out the entire post, write a note at the bottom explaining how there really are no words that can capture my thankfulness for the work they do every day, for my son that is on the way and for the support they provided me along the journey. I get in the car to drop it off along with my left over injectables to donate which are now resting on a bag of frozen edamame.

I head in the office to find three women, who bring an automatic smile to my face, chatting around the front counter. We catch up for a minute or so while I hand over my meds. One tells me how she saw our IUI pic on my blog! I had completely forgotten that I told her about the blog and was touched to see that she not only read it, but had continued to read it since that picture was posted fairly recently.

And then I hand over the letter. I quickly realize that this is going to be tougher than I anticipated. I stumble over a sentence or two, saying something to the effect of, "This is my attempt at saying thank you."

and then I say, ".....I have to go now because I'm going to cry." Maybe I kinda waved after that. I don't know. But I left because I was definitely starting to cry.

I made it about five steps out of the office before it hits me that I didn't hug them. These women who were so wonderful to me, so supportive of me and so happy for me when I finally got my positive. I turn on my heels, rush back in and say, "I didn't hug you" and, in full-on-tears, dole out proper hugs while thanking them for everything.

Eloquent? No. Dignified? Not quite. But sincere? Yeah, definitely sincere.