I remember calling Amy Emmerich, our CCO, who was in an executive meeting at that moment to give them an update. I’ll admit, it’s an interesting and maybe peculiar phenomenon to some to hold such a level of intimacy with colleagues. But, at that point, that degree of honesty wasn’t anything new, and I am grateful for it. Traveling a long and complicated fertility path — and all that goes along with it — doesn’t just require trust; it demands time — time at doctors, time waiting for test results, time at home because you feel like garbage. Lots and lots of time, very often away from your work. And it’s hard to hide that. Anyone who’s been there, and who has a job with people that rely on them, knows that sharing comes with the territory, no matter how private you’d like to be in such a personal situation. And, so, when I told Amy the news I’d been admitted to the hospital, I remember her voice didn’t waver. She relayed the message to the team, and I heard everyone around the table cheer. I cried. And while I couldn’t see it in that moment, I knew there were some people there in that conference room crying, too. Because, that’s what you do when everyone’s rooting for you and you have know idea what’s going to happen or how things will turn out. You cry. Because you can’t bear to disappoint one more person on the way to the finish line. Not one more person.