the difference

Yesterday, Citizen Wifey reported to the courthouse to do my civic duty as a juror (in the midst of yet ANOTHER freaking snowstorm!).

I sat on a jury panel for a civil trial.

The attorneys for both sides were questioning the jurors. One attorney asked if anyone had anything coming up this week that they didn't want to miss, cancel, etc.

I thought about telling him that on Wednesday, I have my "What the fuck do we do now?" appointment with my RE. I thought about saying, in open court, that I am about to start a new cycle, I've used up my time on Clomid and need to figure out what our next steps are because I'm desperate, and I really really don't want to push that appointment back.

I didn't. I was too ashamed to admit that my body has failed, repeatedly, to do what has been done by women throughout the history of the human race.

And then the girl in front of me spoke up. "Well," she said, serenely rubbing her little belly, "Wednesday is our first ultrasound appointment for our new baby." Whispers of congratulations abounded in the jury box as she beamed.

Ahhh. There's the difference.