Not long after Resolve emailed me to inform me that I had won, I realized I would need to give some sort of acceptance speech. I was equally thrilled and terrified. I don't talk about this much here, but long before infertility became my focus in life, I was a die-hard theater student. I spent all of my childhood, teens and at least half of my college years either in an acting class or onstage in some way. I, like most aspiring actors, have often practiced my academy award thank yous in the mirror. However, having long ago moved on to other passions, I have never thought I would actually be on a brightly lit stage in a pretty dress, thanking my husband for his support in helping me achieve this honor. But now thanks to this blog and the incredible love and support of the infertility community, there I was trying to write my heartfelt and grateful remarks without going over the time limit that would get me cut off by the "wrap it up" music.
I had drafts of what I would say in my head for weeks. I'd think of a meaningful sentiment randomly throughout the day and make mental notes to include it. Finally the night of the event, I sat in the cab with Chad, furiously re-reading and revising my handwritten remarks. I had covered everything I wanted to say and timed myself enough to know it would stay under the minute and a half I was allotted. The only problem was I couldn't get through my rehearsals without crying. I just meant every word so deeply there was no way I could stop myself from getting choked up. I know it would have been ok to cry but I didn't want it to make me lose myself and prevent me from saying what I needed to say.
In the end though, it didn't matter. I cried that night many times, but not during my speech. I cried during cocktails while Chad and I were speaking with Jennifer Ludden, NPR Correspondent and Marisa Peñaloza, NPR Producer about the powerful effects of positive journalism covering infertility. I cried during the awards watching the Pampers "Every Little Miracle" ad. (Click and keep a dry eye, I dare you) I cried during dessert speaking with fertility clinic nurses and hearing just how deeply they cared about the work they do and their patients. I teared up during speeches, hugs and in the middle of conversations. It was amazing to be in a room full of people that were simultaneously so professional yet so equally emotional and passionate. I remember so many incredible discussions and heartfelt moments from the night, but I don't have a clue what happened during my speech.
I walked onstage, thanked my presenter, turned to face the audience, spoke the first 3 words I had written down and completely lost my place. So I just went with it. I said what was in my heart. Since I actually had written my remarks out and practiced them, I felt like I had managed to cover just about everything I wanted to say but in not quite the way I meant to say it. After I walked offstage, I was buzzing with excitement and a bit of confusion. How did that go? What the heck did I say up there, exactly? Did I make a fool of myself? I wasn't entirely sure.
After some reassurance from Chad and fellow bloggers Jen (http://thisismorepersonal.tumblr.com/) and Jay (http://the2weekwait.blogspot.com/) that I hadn't mucked the whole thing up, I breathed a sigh of relief and enjoyed the rest of what was a beautiful and incredibly inspiring night. I thought about typing up the speech I had written for you here, but since Chad was wonderful enough to capture it on video, I would rather share with you the speech I gave.
I again, can't thank this community enough for all it has have given me. And although very few of my friends or family have ever seen my blog, I am incredibly grateful to each and every one of them for the incredible love and support they have shown me and Chad as they have learned about our struggle. I am a lucky girl. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.