I always thought wishing someone good luck was a little lame. I mean, there’s not really any such thing as luck, right? God is in control and we just trust Him and do what He says and wait for the results. …but then we started on this whole infertility roller coaster…

The first time I was getting off the phone with the pharmacy (about a year ago) and had just agreed to pay almost $500 out of our pocket for one round of the fertility meds that were going to give us a chance at a baby, the nice lady I was talking to ended the conversation with, “Good luck to you.” I didn’t think much about it at the time, but as we continued our journey and faced disappointment and discouragement and heartache, that “good luck” that I kept hearing from the infertility community became more precious. What they were really saying was that they wanted this to work, and knew it was not an easy time for us. That acknowledgement got me through some discouraging phone calls and doctor’s visits. Then we started on the IVF roller coaster, which should have come with all kinds of warning labels; seriously.

A couple of weeks ago, I sat in a lab in Kansas City waiting to have my blood drawn as another step in the IVF process. I knew that everyone going through this cycle of IVF with my doctor had to be at this particular lab between 8 and 10 AM to have blood drawn. Let’s face it, no one likes to get up early on a Saturday morning and drive an hour to get stabbed by a needle and have blood sucked from their vein.  After signing in, I sat in the waiting area and discretely looked around the room at the others who also sat expectantly, wondering who else was in the same boat I was. Three other females about my age walked in the door, one after another, wearing their hair in a ponytail and sporting casual clothing with little or no makeup, looking like they got out of bed and dressed in a hurry. I recognized the uniform because I was sporting it too, but more than that, I recognized the heart ache and semi-expectant look in the eyes of the other ladies; “This may be my last option for ever being able to bear a child, and I’ll do anything for that chance. Poke me, prod me; just let me be a mother.”

After waiting about twenty-five minutes, a nice young lady came to the sign-in window, looked at the sign-in sheet, and directed a general question to the waiting area, “How many of you are here for IVF?” (I’m sure that wasn’t a HIPAA violation.) We ponytails all raised our hands, and looked at each other knowingly. I was the first of those waiting to go back. When I came out, the next ponytail was headed back. We made eye contact; she looked at me sincerely and said, “Good luck.” I smiled to her and wished her good luck in return, but with that one look, so much more was communicated. It was understood that even though we only knew each other now by the names we had been called by the woman taking our blood, there was a kinship. We are part of an infertility club that no one else can understand, and that no one wants to be a part of. We didn’t ask to join the “good luck club”, but we are in it and we’re making the best of it.

Last week, I was sitting in the hospital waiting room at 6:30 in the morning, waiting to go back for my procedure, and desperately trying to distract myself by looking at Pinterest on my phone. Suddenly I felt a presence leaning over me; it was my friend and fellow club member from the lab. Once again, she told me sincerely “good luck” and then with that knowing look in her eye, walked on to prepare for her own procedure. I didn’t get to talk to her again that day, but it warmed my heart to know that I had a friend close by who was feeling similar things to what I was feeling at that moment.

Read and I have felt so loved and carried in prayer and encouragement by all of our friends and family who are praying for us and checking in regularly. A couple of individuals who have experienced their own time in the “good luck club” have reached out and encouraged me more than words can say. It is our hope and prayer that in all of this, no matter the outcome, God receives the glory and praise for what goes on. I still don’t believe in luck, and I still give God full credit for every good thing that happens in my life, but I am so grateful for the kind words and understanding that so many people, even strangers, have given us. I will take that “good luck” any day and give it right back with utmost sincerity because what we’re really saying is, “I know what you’re going through is so hard, and you are not alone.”