I am currently sitting in my car, waiting while Paul gets a quick haircut at the shop of the little Asian barber he used when we lived in this city. I sit across the street from our old house, the 1910 Craftsman I bought as a single woman, one tiny room, tucked under the second story gable, where I planned to set up the nursery for the baby I'd planned to conceive -as a single woman - using IUI with donor sperm because I'd given up on finding love. The room had already been a nursery, painted in a beach theme with seagulls and beach balls and a puppy on its sand-colored walls.
Then I met Paul, we fell in love, married, remodeled the house and sold it, those nursery walls painted over with a sensible taupe.
Sitting here, waiting, always waiting, I am struck by how much everything has changed. Back then, life was pretty simple. Back then, we were eagerly trying to conceive our first child, unaware that 4.5 years later, where there was hope, there'd be heartbreak, no idea that infertility and babyloss were in our future.
So much has changed.