December 31, 2009
Why
Today I decided to start a new blog. This blog is mostly for myself, to document my story of fertiliy, or, as it turns out, infertility. I thought my days of TTC (Trying To Concieve) were long in my past, but that ugly monster just grew a new head and decided to rear them both in my face. So here it is, the story of how I got here, struggling to have kids. And hopefully, from here, my journey to another child.
How It All Began
When I was a girl growing up, I always imagined myself with a big family. Six, eight kids, I thought. Five, MINIMUM. Those were just fantasies, of course. Dreams based on some romanticized version of parenthood that didn't involve whining, barfing, or keeping track of 1/4" Polly Pocket shoes.
I also knew by the time I was very little that I wanted to start young. I wanted to be a young, hip mom, one that wore cool clothes and had long hair. One that my kids could be proud of when I showed up for school functions. I hoped that I could be married by 18 and have my first child by 19.
Life, however, had different plans for me. Instead of having a baby at 19, I was living in a village in India, studying Buddhism and Baha'i, reading the Koran and the Upanishads. I spent the next few years living in various countries, on various continents. I graduated from college with a degree in Anthropology and a minor in teaching English. I became a teacher. I was thrilled with the way my life had turned out. Except, deep inside, I still wanted the husband, and the kids too.
Only by now, I had spent quite a bit of time around my married sister and her (then four, now six) small children. And I had amended my ideal family down to five MAXIMUM, three or four more likely.
And finally, the long-awaited husband did arrive. After what must be the longest Mormon courtship of all time (2 1/2 years), we married. And guess what? Neither of us was terribly young. I was just a few weeks shy of 28 and he was 30. My dream of being a young mom was gone. I'd be in my mid-40's when my first child graduated from college, if all turned out as planned (which, you already must suspect, it wouldn't). So we knew we didn't have a ton of time to wait before starting a family. We thought we'd wait a year--travel, get to know each other, sleep in a lot--and then focus on having kids. They'd come quickly, of course. And then we'd have to figure out what method of birth control to use so that we didn't end up like my grandmother, 10 kids deep.
(Insert huge laugh here.)
We waited nearly our requisite year. Then 1 month shy of that goal, in a hotel on the banks of the Arno we decided to give it a go. "Let's make a baby!" we said, overcome by springtime in Florence. And that, we thought, would be that. Our "single" life of leisure would soon fade into pregnancy and children.
(Insert another guffaw here).
As it turns out, life had a few more twists and turns for us...
I also knew by the time I was very little that I wanted to start young. I wanted to be a young, hip mom, one that wore cool clothes and had long hair. One that my kids could be proud of when I showed up for school functions. I hoped that I could be married by 18 and have my first child by 19.
Life, however, had different plans for me. Instead of having a baby at 19, I was living in a village in India, studying Buddhism and Baha'i, reading the Koran and the Upanishads. I spent the next few years living in various countries, on various continents. I graduated from college with a degree in Anthropology and a minor in teaching English. I became a teacher. I was thrilled with the way my life had turned out. Except, deep inside, I still wanted the husband, and the kids too.
Only by now, I had spent quite a bit of time around my married sister and her (then four, now six) small children. And I had amended my ideal family down to five MAXIMUM, three or four more likely.
And finally, the long-awaited husband did arrive. After what must be the longest Mormon courtship of all time (2 1/2 years), we married. And guess what? Neither of us was terribly young. I was just a few weeks shy of 28 and he was 30. My dream of being a young mom was gone. I'd be in my mid-40's when my first child graduated from college, if all turned out as planned (which, you already must suspect, it wouldn't). So we knew we didn't have a ton of time to wait before starting a family. We thought we'd wait a year--travel, get to know each other, sleep in a lot--and then focus on having kids. They'd come quickly, of course. And then we'd have to figure out what method of birth control to use so that we didn't end up like my grandmother, 10 kids deep.
(Insert huge laugh here.)
We waited nearly our requisite year. Then 1 month shy of that goal, in a hotel on the banks of the Arno we decided to give it a go. "Let's make a baby!" we said, overcome by springtime in Florence. And that, we thought, would be that. Our "single" life of leisure would soon fade into pregnancy and children.
(Insert another guffaw here).
As it turns out, life had a few more twists and turns for us...
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