Over one weekend, Elliott and I spent the good part of Sunday afternoon hanging out with Yann and her family. The husband was tied up at the office (yes, on a weekend!) so we were left to our own devices. Yann was going to check out Octoburst! at the Esplanade and since we were in the vicinity, I thought why not, it sounds like fun.

As the little ones busied themselves with the various activities, I found myself feeling a tad emotional and…sentimental. Back in the day when we were caught up on that twisted endless road of infertility, I could never imagine that one day, I would be standing in the heat, watching my own child play with in the sun.

In fact, that was how Yann and I met. We became fast friends because of our shared (infertility) journey because she wrote beautifully and honestly about her struggles on her personal blog. Her entries used to make me tear as it hit close to home.

Perhaps, another reason for feeling this way was receiving news from (yet) another girlfriend that her last IVF attempt just failed. Again.

Even though I have been down the same wretched road, I still feel a lump in my throat whenever I receive such news because it is hard to forget the journey. That journey. As strange as this sounds, I find myself a little lost for words and don’t know what (else) to say to make her feel better except to hold on, and to keep the faith.

After one of the failed cycles, I remember Yann telling me that she was rooting for me and that she just knew that one day, I will be a mother.

Of course I did not believe her then.

Not that I didn’t want to believe my friend. I just found it almost impossible to because there was no light at the end of that dark tunnel. Everything seemed hopeless and impossible.

Then Elliott happened.

Today, as I looked on at my child playing with Yann’s second-born, Zac, my heart leaped a million times because just a few years back, this scene existed only in my dreams.

Then and now.
Past and present.

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