Mixed Bag Of Rant

Five years ago, I got a call from one of my dearest friends. After struggling with infertility, going through treatment, multiple miscarriages they were in fact, finally (yes, I’m throwing out the “f” word infertiles) pregnant. I was so, so happy for her. But I will confess, painfully jealous. I cried a lot that night. Cried out of happiness for my friend who got her miracle. Cried for myself because mine hadn’t arrived yet. Once I got that cry out of my system, I knew it was time. Time to let go. Time to move on and be happy not just for myself, but for my friend whom I knew would be an amazing mama.

My husband and I let go. We decided that it was time to let go of the notion that we would be parents and embrace our life as dual income, no kids people. After letting go of the stress of trying to get pregnant and month after month of BFN’s, we actually started to enjoy our marriage and our life. We made plans to travel. We even joked about opening an Applebees-esque restaurant & bar where children wouldn’t be allowed. Yeah. We were “those” people.

I chuckle. Several weeks after a night of pretty heavy boozing, trips to both Mexico & Tahiti on the calendar, I ended up being one of those fertile people I loathed. Infertiles, you know of whom I speak. I will never under any circumstances say that it happened because I “relaxed”. I got a BFP. No rhyme. No reason. Just a miracle.

My Ridiculously Cute Miracle Baby

Well, a couple weeks ago, that same dear friend invited me out for drinks and dropped the bomb that they are miraculously pregnant with their 2nd baby. They went through all the stages- deciding that having one child was okay. Deciding to try again. Deciding not to try again. Looking into adoption. Passing on adoption. Looking into IVF. No medication. No rhyme. No reason. Just a miracle. Amazing.

Upon the announcement of their news, I got the slew of “Are you okay?” emails from mutual friends and family. You know what my answer was and still is? I AM FINE!! Actually, I love it. I loved their news so much that I got choked up not feeling sorry for myself for once, but truly, for them. I am so overwhelmingly happy for them. I am thrilled they give infertility a big FUCK YOU.

Miracles are real. My friend and I will share that bond always. Our miracle babies. We feel so blessed it is ridiculous.

Our Miracle Babies. We love that they are buds.

When I lost my left ovary and tube a year ago, I was all but told to forget about visions of another miracle baby. I was given scary statistics about a 60% miscarriage rate for someone with my condition, not to mention how hard it would be to get pregnant with one ovary in the first place and a questionable one at that. Being my stubborn self, the answer wasn’t a flat out NO, so I never really got any closure.

Despite this crushing diagnosis, the idea of a 2nd baby still haunts me. I see how good Jack is with his younger cousins. I think he would be an amazing big brother. I have found it hard to adjust to the idea of him being an only child yet often find myself thinking I’m crazy for thinking I could handle another. I even had a random dream a couple weeks ago that I had a daughter. Her name was Katie. My Kate.

So I’m just going to confess, right here, right now: I want another child. So much so that my husband and I had the conversation about taking the steps into IVF. I’m going to have another discussion with my doctor and start there. Perhaps she doesn’t want to touch my situation, which heck, I couldn’t blame her. I will then ask her for a referral for a RE and take this to the next level. I want this. Not out of jealousy of my friend. Not just for me and my husband. FOR JACKSON. He deserves a chance to be a big brother. If I get another “no way in hell” answer from a specialist, then I will accept my fate. I will be okay. We will be okay.

At least I will know that I tried.