Aren't we all just clambering into the unknown?

The beauty of bearing witness.

Trigger warning: This post discusses infertility.

The sliding doors that lead to the Belcher Pavilion are locked on Sundays, but my husband and I don’t know that when we arrive for our early morning appointment. So when we try to enter, we are surprised to find that we can’t. I inch closer, thinking maybe the sensor is broken. I try pushing. I check my email to be sure I have the right time. I do, I assure my husband.

Between hormone injections and vaginal ultrasounds and blood tests, I am exhausted. My resilience is paper thin. The very least this goddamn door can do, I think to myself, is open.

For a moment, we just stand there like two birds who have flown into a closed window – stunned and bewildered. As we do, another couple approaches. They push on the door handles, then glance at us with the same startled expressions.

Maybe the ground floor? One of us suggests. And together we silently retrace our steps - back to the parking lot, into the elevator, down this time, then to a new set of sliding doors. Much to our relief, these open to a large, empty lobby. We shuffle into another elevator, push the “3” button, and let it carry us up.