Busted Lady Parts

Yesterday I found myself hovering around the books on infertility on the library… picking a few up… putting them down, hoping the passers by wouldn’t notice what I was looking at… INFERTILITY.  Big bad word.  I don’t want people to know my uterus is broken.

We are not currently TTC.  Although, I say that with somewhat of a smirk.  Although we are not TTC, never once in all these years have we used any method of protection unless you count the year or so we actually acted like the pull n pray method would actually work.  Err well I guess it did… but turns out there was little to pray for or against.

I suppose I can take some comfort in the fact that when we do decide we want children, there should be no matters of beating around the bush.  A year off birth control?  Ha, we’ve never been on it.  And we’ve got like 6…7 years under our belts.  No surprises.

The internet has exposed me to the land of infertility.  Where infertiles can gather together and bitch and moan.  Mourn.  Celebrate when one does get a miracle.  I have several dear online friends who have exposed me to this world very intimately.  Because we are not TTC I can’t say that I am there with them, but yet, I am.

So I feel compelled to start reading, browsing the books, understanding what I am up against when the time comes.  The language is less foreign, but still foreign nonetheless to me.

My body’s inability to cooperate does at times leave me feeling broken.  When x out of x amount of women will suffer infertility, why do I have to be x?  Sometimes I mourn the fact that I was not one of my friends, popping out 3 kids under the age of 22.  Not that I would have chosen that path for my life, but if it meant I didn’t have these nagging questions of if I would ever be able to create a spawn of my own, sure maybe I would take it.

My husband is far less concerned about this issue at this point in time.  I don’t blame him.  His mind is still far from the thoughts of bringing a life that he is responsible for into this world.  In all honesty, mine is too.  But I can’t help but to be reminded constantly of what I may not be able to produce.  It seems so much more daunting when you’re the one reminded that you have to carry a life to term and if you can’t even get the oven preheated?  Well…

I’ve often wondered what path my life will take if for some reason, children are not in my future.  It seems silly to dwell on the thought when I know at this point in time, I have no idea which direction that fork in the road will go. Or even if I’ll blow right by it.  Whose to say (very doubtful) that I won’t wake up in 2 years and decide children are the last thing I ever wanted?  Yes, doubtful, but again… who the hell knows.  Life has a way of being unpredictable like that.  But it still makes the list of impossible possibles I suppose.

I’ve wondered, but have never came up with an answer.  Somedays I wish that time would hurry up and get here, one way or another, so I could just stop wondering and get on with what life gives me in the respect of children.

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