My story : the last part

After our second IVF failed, we got completely immersed in work. We needed our minds to be fully occupied so we didn't have the time to fret. It was a different phase of our lives - trying to overcome the agony. As I tore one more page in our calendar, it showed June. I would be turning 30 in a couple of days. Fear and uncertainty gripped me, but I kept my faith for October that year. Came July and for the fourth time in the last eight months I had a delayed period. Defining me as annoyed would be a subtle expression. The routine was simple. I would go to our doctor, he would prescribe the pregnancy test. The single line would slap me hard across the face and he would give me tablets for my period to come. I would decide to start the tablet from the next day and as faithful as ever my period would come that night. I tried going for check ups at different days but yet the result was same. Oh and no matter what I would NOT take the pregnancy test at home.
It was the fourteenth of July and we decide to go for check up. Prem didn't get a parking slot, it was a Monday morning, 9a.m, so I tell him to go for work and I would go straight to work from the hospital. It was meaningless to waste two man days. I didn't have an appointment that day and I knew the wait would be endless. I sat opposite to our doctors cabin fidgeting with my BlackBerry. It was three p.m. when my turn came. Or rather there was no one else left and I was the only one in the entire area. He looked at me and prescribed the pregnancy test. I asked him why did he have to put me through this although he very well knew what the result would be. He gave me the usual we'll - never - know, smiled charmingly, and dismissed me. I get the kit and hand it over to a nurse. She would perform the test. I gave her my sample and look away for I knew what would come. Although I had gone through the routine an infinite number of times, each time was painful. "Mam I'm going to start the test...". My heart started to pound. Silly humane naive me. No i wouldn't look come what. In ten seconds the nurse smiles and looks at me. "I think it is positive..." she said. And I looked down. The second line indeed glowed at me and I smiled back as bright as ever, my eyes welled up. My breath started to pace and I didnt know what to tell her. I muttered a thank you so much and try to walk back to the empty iron sofa. Whom should I call first? How should I tell Prem? A myriad thoughts. As I reached the sofa, it was clear to me. I sat down and placed my bags aside. I covered my face with my palm, the tears that refused to cease. I wiped my face, calmed myself, closed my eyes and clasped my hands. Thank you God.
What happened after that was a long story that ended well which I dont want to write about. I don't want to write about the 59 days of captivity. Or the 56 days of struggle that would remain within me, my pillow that held my tears, the walls of the NICU, the god sent people all around me thanks to whom, our warriors are here today. Thanks to whom I can see them smile every moment, nurture them, manhandle them, and look ahead. The 56 days would remain in my heart, each day still afresh. If this is a lesson that HE wished to teach me how to be thankful, I learnt it well. If not, i'm still seeking...
Cheers,
Hopie