Yesterday I turned 37.
Yesterday I had to revise what I’ve been saying all my life – “If I don’t have kids by the time I’m
35 36, then I won’t ever have kids”. Yes that’s right. Years ago I said that I would never have kids after I turned 35, because I didn’t want to be an old mother. So, when I turned 35 I had to revise that to 36. Then last year I turned 36 and The Man and I still weren’t trying for a baby, so I had to revise what I’d always said, and change that to if I haven’t had kids by the time I’m 37 I won’t ever have kids. This year, I’ve revised it to “if I haven’t had kids by the time I’m 40, then I will just need to suck it up and realise that maybe being a mother was never my destiny”. Then I sat down and cried. On my birthday.
Welcome to my world. The world of Louise and my deep desire to have a wee little bundle of joy – of the MY variety, not the adopted niece/nephew variety.
The Man and I have been together for 4 1/2 years now. It is one of these relationships where you just know, right from the beginning that this is the person you’ve been looking for your entire life. You know, as corny as it sounds, your soulmate. You know that kind of relationship. Right from the beginning I let The Man know that I wanted kids in the future. I wasn’t desperate to have them at that point, but I knew I would want them in the pretty near future. The Man has a beautiful daughter who I love and adore who is now the ripe old age of 16. I love her to bits, but at the back of my mind is the knowledge that she has a mother, and she’s not mine and I didn’t get to have those baby years with her. I can and always will be there for her as a friend, stepmother, anything she needs. But she doesn’t fill that need in me to have a child of my own.
So then started the negotiating. “Let’s have kids now”, I said. “Let’s buy a house first”, said The Man. “But we can always buy a house down the track”, says I. “But we won’t be able to borrow as much with two dependents”. And so on and so forth.
Backtrack a couple of months now and we are lying in bed late at night and I’ve completely flipped out over something very minor and turned it into a full blown argument. For the last six months or so, I’d seen my birthday looming ahead of me and I was getting more and more freaked out about never having a baby. So I just put my foot down (or rather, I put my whole body down flat on the bed) and said that’s it – “my pill prescription has run out and you know what? Yeah, I’m NOT going to get it refilled. That’s it!!” All I heard from the other side of the bed, in the dark, was a small voice that finally said “Okay”.
Is that how I wanted us to make the huge decision to have a baby? Not really. Is that going to stop us now trying to have a baby?
So now we are three months in to trying to add to our family and already I’m frustrated. I’m not the most patient person, but I guess I’m going to have to learn to be. But secretly, I’m hoping I don’t have to practice this patience for very long – it’s really not a fun game.