My RE's office is in a building that is dedicated solely to providers of women's health services. It is usually bustling with activity... patients and their loved ones, doctors and staff and those ubiquitous pharma reps. My midwife is in the same building, as is the breast imaging center where I've gone for mammograms in the past. I've lost count of the number of times I've visited this building over the last ten years.
But. My RE is the only provider in the building that sees patients on the weekend. In a town with limited options for infertility treatment, I'm pretty certain at least a couple of you have been to my RE. I've seen regular blog hits originating not only in my town, but in nearby smaller towns as well.
When I walk through the building on a Saturday morning and see only a handful of others (almost always couples on the weekends), all heading to or from the same door as I am, I know. We all know. The atmosphere in the building is just a little more relaxed, a little more open. People's voices are not quite as hushed as they are on weekdays. Because we all know why we're there and we're all there for the same reason. And I always wonder if I'm looking across the waiting room at someone who reads this blog, or whose blog I read myself.
That curly headed girl whose face lit up when she spied the pumpkin spice K-cups at the coffee station in the waiting room last weekend? That was me.