I lost control today in church.  To make matters worse, I was the liturgist, so I had to look like I had it together long enough to get to the last hymn.  I couldn't make it through the last hymn, and I followed one of the choir members through the little escape door behind the lectern so I wasn't as obvious.  The sermon had been from a person from the conference instead of our pastor, and she had spoken about hope as our church proceeds through a merger.  I just completely did not have the ability to think about hope without falling apart, when I'm having so much trouble having hope for our situation. 

As I was leaving the sanctuary, the visiting pastor asked if I was ok.  I mumbled that we were dealing with infertility.  She asked if I wanted to talk, saying that she had dealt with the same thing, and I initially said I would be ok, thinking that I was supposed to go home and meet my cousin to talk APO stuff.  (DH, meanwhile, was projecting thoughts of, "Don't be stupid and turn away help when you need it, especially not from someone who's been there!!!") 

So, the pastor sat down with the two of us and talked about how we (especially I) have been feeling.  She was lucky in that 18 years ago, stuff like this was actually covered by insurance, but she needed IVF to conceive her twins.  She said that she could see how much grief I'm experiencing.  I've never used that word to describe it before, but it fits better than I would have guessed.  The pastor also compared it to having a loved one MIA because you don't know whether to give up or keep hoping.  She said she'll pray for us.

When we got home, DH and I were talking more, and we eventually decided that maybe we should see a fertility clinic once we can get the money together rather than waiting longer and potentially wasting more time.  Course, who knows how long getting the money together will take, after the bills from getting us both checked out in the first place.