The Question I Can't Answer

Brian told me the other day how creepy I am because I walk through life making conversations with almost everyone I come in to contact with. It came up because while I was at the dermatologist I ended up sitting next to this sweet girl who is due with a boy 4 weeks before I'm due with Hartley. We exchanged numbers and were conversing over Facebook. Brian, looking on, was telling me how much of a weirdo I am. I am weird. But it's so nice to talk to a person my age, due roughly when I'm due.

We actually were in the waiting room for a while so we talked about quite a few pregnancy things. One things we touched on was how funny it is that people ask us both how many kids we're going to have or when we're planning on the next one. She completely shared my sentiments: "Um, can I finish this one first, please?"

I actually don't mind questions like this; I used to ask people stuff like that. And in my case, most of the time, only strangers ask me, and occasionally close friends that think I'll let them in on the mystical secret answer. 

The truth is, over the years, I got comfortable sharing my infertility with the world because I got a little tired of people asking when Brian and I were going to have kids. I could write a whole long blog entry about the evolution of my response to that question over the almost 4 years of marriage before announcing my pregnancy but I digress. 

My new question is one I'm beyond ill-equipped to answer.

For about the first 21/22 weeks of pregnancy I was pretty sick, and I felt pretty miserable. I repeatedly told Brian he better love whatever he gets this pregnancy because it was all I would do. I mean, imagine 7 months of grueling fertility treatment, basically starting pregnancy tired, only to have severe morning sickness. There were days I cried when the light at the end of the tunnel (actually feeling decent) started to sound like a myth. 

Also, after not knowing if we'd ever have one child, I fell in love with the idea of having my one miracle baby. I just basked in that thought and threw away the idea of another baby. I couldn't see ever feeling like I needed anything else. And I usually still feel this way (95% of the time).

But lately as the awfulness seems to have fully exited, I've started to think about having another. I see dads with their sons, and I have this urge to give that to Brian too. So I started researching spontaneous pregnancy after IVF. It does happen. It's certainly not what usually happens but it's not impossible. They see it more often in women with unexplained infertility. Where as my infertility is very explained. Obviously, if we were able to achieve a spontaneous pregnancy, we would be thrilled to have more than one.

We are both very apprehensive about doing fertility treatment again. We are forever grateful for it, and we plan on storing our embryos until we are 100% ready to close that door forever. But neither of us can imagine going through it again. And neither of us wants Hartley to see it. Yes, moms drag their toddlers to their monitoring appointments. It's almost unavoidable. And I don't think I could ever have my daughter know about all that stuff until later, when I think she's ready. And I don't want her to see my weaknesses. I want her to always feel like her mom is a strong lady who can do anything. I don't want her to ever know the women who needed syringes and pills every day and couldn't keep her shit together.

Though I threw out to Brian the other day, "what if they transferred two, we had twins and actually had three kids total?" He seemed thrown through a loop by my question. We hadn't even thought about the possiblity of 3 kids in a long, long time. Yes, as newlyweds we thought we were going to have 3 or 4! Insert boisterous evil laugh here.

So when people ask, I've started with my very vague response of, "we're not sure yet." People give me the same weird looks as they did when I used to tell them Brian and I weren't sure when we'd start our family. Wondering in their minds, "don't you morons discuss these things?"

Somedays I want to say, "depends if this pregnancy fixes my fucked up lady parts." But I have to remember how uncomfortable everyone else in this world is with that kind of honesty.

I think over time my stock answer will evolve. But Brian and I know the true answer. The true answer is that we have no idea. We don't know what life has in store for us. We know that ultimately how many kids we have won't entirely be our decision. And it's taken me years to realize that's the right way to approach things. Yes, hardest life lesson ever. Sometimes you just need to let go of the set numbers and expectations. You say "fuck it". And you let life take you where you need to be when you're supposed to be there.