On a Personal Note...

I'm not sure what it is about election cycles, but back in 2004 The Man and I decided to try and have another baby. I've posted here before about the fact that I have PCOS and that we had to go the fertility route to conceive our first son. The second must have just happened because of a perfect storm of hormones and nursing from the first one. So, in 2004...nothing. Two doctors, my OBGYN and a reproductive endocrinologist, informed me that I was no longer ovulating and that if we wanted any more children we'd have to resort to fertility meds/treatments again, but there was still no guarantee.

Anyway, things with the business and life in general took precedence and we decided that we were content with the two little guys we had. It felt strange making a decision I knew I'd regret later --I guess being from a big family I felt guilty robbing my boys of that. The little one used to say to me, "Mom, let me get this straight. You have three brothers and one sister and I only have ONE brother. How is that fair?"

The Man really didn't want any more though and I didn't really want to do the fertility thing again -multiples run in my family and fertility treatment and my age would amp up the chances of that. Then, a few months ago and in a shocking twist...The Man did an about face and wanted another one. Even though I'd been bugging him to want one, the reality of what that entailed was pretty scary. I knew it probably couldn't happen, but I was happy just with the thought.

The more I thought about it I knew that I had to tell him 'no.' I couldn't do the fertility crap again, I am way too old and our boys are already 7 and 9. I fell asleep one night in January resolved to tell him there would be no little girl for him to spoil...that I just couldn't do it. That if in 7 years since the last one was born it hadn't happened...then it obviously wasn't meant to be (we hadn't "used anything" in all those years).

I kept putting off telling him because I was feeling really crappy. I was achy and I kept falling asleep on the couch -something I never do. Finally my sister convinced (nagged really) me to buy a test. It was such a ridiculous waste of $13. Seven years of unprotected sex. Two doctors confirming my infertile status. My recent decision that I was more than content with my two boys. The chances of me being pregnant were so very improbable.

I bought the test that gives you the Plus sign if you are. I couldn't look and wrapped it in about a half of roll of TP, sat it on the counter and called The Man.

"You really didn't look?"
"No, I can't."
He unwraps the test.
"Well, I don't know what the hell I'm looking at. What does an 'X' mean?"
"A plus?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"It means that we are going to have a kid that's going into kindergarten when the other two are going into 7th and 9th grade."

So here we are... just past the first trimester hurdle and still in complete and total shock.