Friday, June 20, 2008

This is the Short Version (no, really)

4/3/2004 -- Curt -- 3.75 months before birth

Ultrasound photos are important to me. The first ultrasound photo of Curt, or should I say, what would be Curt, was a first. I had several ultrasounds before, but this one actually had a beating heart. I was holding my breath, waiting for another round of "I'm so sorry's" when I saw the little flashing light and heard the rapid boom-boom-boom. Of course, I cried.

My journey started in 1994. "Boots" and I had been married for about 1.5 years, I was 28 and I was convinced it was time to get off the pill. Boots wasn't so sure. He said (and I will never forget this), "But, I want to be the baby!" This coming from a man who already had two children. Looking back, this probably wasn't a good sign, eh?

And, we did try. After a year or so, with no success, my doctor recommended a tubal x-ray (potential blockage). Gals, this ain't your normal x-ray. The pain was unbelievable; I've been through childbirth -- and it was still bad. We then decided to try Clomid, a low-dose fertility drug. It did work and I became pregnant right around my 30th birthday. But, it was not meant to be. The result was a blighted ovum, which is a fertilized egg which never develops. A D&C followed, which sucked, by the way.

By this time, my marriage was in severe trouble. I won't go into details, but let's just say we weren't moving in the same direction. (Time must heal all wounds, cause I could really, really blast him if I wanted.) Anyhoo, suffice it to say it was not a good idea to continue with this particular project.

In 1997, we divorced. I was 32. My divorce was final on my birthday.

In 1999, I met Cowboy. (Look in the archives for the beginning of that torrid story if you're interested.) In 2000, we married.

Within two years, I was back on Clomid. I knew time was running out. Again, I fell pregnant. I took the pregnancy test on July 2, 2001 and miscarried July 5. Devastating.

I'm now 36. I'm tired. I don't want (and can't afford) to resort to radical fertility treatments. I decide to make peace with this and move on. The following is a conversation (almost verbatim) I had with my mother that year:

MOM: You could adopt. You cousin's friend made this scrapbook about her and her husband's life. They went through an open adoption and had a baby in six months!

ME: Mother, if I were 10 years younger, I would consider that. But, I'm not. Plus, I feel like we take enough chances with our own genes. There are benefits of having no children. I could retire early!

And, eventually, I came to believe that.

Fast forward to December, 2003. I am very tired and very sleepy. I'm also late (which is not that uncommon). My friends at work tease me that I may be pregnant. "No way," I say. "God does not have a sick sense of humor."

Ha. Ha.

Fast forward through ultrasounds every two weeks (advanced maternal age), a level II ultrasound and the two-hour glucose test. I passed every one.

July 22, 2004. I finally had my baby boy. I was 38. I can't believe he will be 4 next month. I love you, Curt.

2 comments:

Brenda said...

I'm so glad your journey ended with darling little Curt!

Coyote Bebop said...

What brenda said x 10.

Thank you for sharing this. Happy birthday, little one, Bless.

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