Tears of joy

So I thought it had all sunk in nicely overnight, and decided bravely to call my folks long distance with a "Hey, guess what!" to have them share in our excitement.

My dad, who is - aside from my dh - the sweetest man in the whole world, answers the phone. "Hi dad, is mom there too? Could you get her on speaker phone, because I have some news." My mom comes to the phone and instead of telling them about the surprise IVF cycle start, I get so verklempt that I can't get a word out. I hand the phone to hubby, who promptly tells them the basics about the IVF and sperm aspiration without missing a beat. It sounds like he's talking about the weather, only more excited. (I told you, I have a great husband.)

All of this, while I sob and smile and nod and wave with my hands in front of my eyes - the way Oscar winners do - in an effort to compose myself. Hubby comes and sits next to me on the sofa and puts his arm around me while I cry with joy - and he talks to my parents. I managed to get a few incoherent sentences out, but by the time they were saying goodbye and "We love you, we miss you, we wish we could be there with you," the next crying fit started.

After years and years of waiting and anticipation, the moment of telling my parents that we've started IVF was simply too big. They have known from the very beginning that we may never give them grandkids, they have never pressured us, or asked us whether we were making "progress" on the baby front. They love my husband like they do my siblings and I. He is their son.

I have the most amazing and selfless parents, who have always been supportive of me, whatever the path was I chose. Through all of the infertility struggles, my parents have just listened, asked questions, encouraged me, and said, "We love you." I wish I can be the same kind of supportive parent to my soon-to-be kid(s).