Monday, April 03, 2006

Letters in the Mail

I received a letter in the mail this week that stirred up some really conflicted feelings.

I have always wanted 2 children. When I was young I would picture myself with my two little ones (a girl and a boy, naturally) and I would be content.

Then I grew up. And met a man that I thought I would be with for the rest of my life. After 8 years (eight years!! Tick tick), we were making marriage plans when he decided that he “loved me but wasn’t ‘in love’ with me.” How trite is that? God I hate that expression!!!!

Then a few years went by and I met another man that I felt would be ‘the one.’ Seven years later we got married (tick tick). Then he wanted to wait for children (tick tick). Three years later, we are at the RE (tick tick) and I spent the next 6 years trying to have a baby (tick tick). It is now 3 years later (tick tick) and I received in the mail the renewal for storage for the embryos that were created with our son. We have 10 on ice.

I had a very easy pregnancy. I was not sick a single day. I did not have gestational diabetes, or pre-eclampsia (despite my doctor’s fears), or hemorrhoids or any of the thousands of problems that can come up when pregnant. I had some swelling in my ankles, some numbness in my fingertips and in the last month some heartburn.

That is it.

Oh, there were plenty of worries, mostly having to do with the fact that neither my husband nor I were working at the time. We had a $1200/month mortgage, a $600/month medical insurance payment and I was getting $400/week in unemployment. Figure it out. It was pretty dicy there for awhile. In between twice a week non-stress tests (because of my pre-existing high blood pressure) I was flying around the country on interview trips.

But I was good at being pregnant. And I loved feeling my son move. I don’t think I appreciated it at the time (because of the $$$$ worries) but I really liked being pregnant.

But I am not 25 years old (…or 35…or 45…). And my marriage is far from ideal (we put the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional).

I think I know what we have to do.

But it makes me cry for the little girl who wanted two children.

I am crying for her now.

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