I was on a plane. It was a short trip, about 35 minutes of flight time. It changed me, or rather, I should say that it brought the changes in me into an unignorably harsh reality. I had been hurt. It isn’t so much that someone hurt me, or that I had been injured, or even that a sudden change occurred in my life. This was far more subtle and far more damaging. Infertility had seeped into my life and brought with it all the nefarious, course-altering, dream-destroying possibilities with it.