I feel like some updating is in order to get this whole blog up and running. I'll start here: I am an infertile. My girl parts are currently not cooperating with the mission at hand. That mission is baby making. When I was a little girl, I wanted a crap ton of kids. I'm Catholic, what can I say? Luckily, I met my husband who, although not Catholic, just so happens to have a lucky number of 7. Everything has to end in 7: The amount of money spent at the gas pump, his alarm clock time...and as convinced by me, the number of children we need running around our home. However, after 8 years of trying, we are still only at one.
Now, I know. I hear ya. Can't you just be happy with one? Well, I am beyond happy with our son. He is the reason I wake up each and everyday. He makes my heart smile. However, if I'm being honest, the thought of having only one child scares me to death. I think about how lonely he will be as an adult. He is the only grandchild on both sides. When my husband and I are gone, he is literally going to be all alone. Of course, he will hopefully be married and have a family of his own, but no siblings. Family is more important to me than anything else on this planet, so the thought of my most precious child being alone, without close family, depresses me.
But, it isn't all about my feelings here. I so desperately want him to have someone to grow up with and experience all of the fun things kids are supposed to experience with other kids. Disney World, Christmas morning, playing at the park, or playing inside on a rainy day. So far, he's had to do all of these things with his parents. And, while we're super fantastic, we're not kids. It just isn't the same.
Then, there is the fact that my husband missed the birth of our son. He was serving in Iraq for most of my pregnancy and the first 6 months of our son's life. He missed all of those things that new dads get to experience with a new baby. The sleepless nights, the smell of baby spit up, the first tar-like poop. Above all, he missed seeing his only child take his first breath and declare that he was here and ready to take on the world. Now, had we not had our son, I wouldn't know what he had missed out on either. Maybe I could give it up then. But, I just can't. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not a quitter. I win. Perhaps in my adult life, I should call it "success", but it translates the same: Come hell or high water, I WILL get knocked up. It will take an entire army, but I'm okay with that, too!