Time Keeps On Ticking....

Today is my birthday.

I am 31.

While I am still fairly young in the IF world, I feel incredibly,overwhelmingly, old. I have been trying to have a baby since I was 21. I have spent ten years of my life hoping, wishing, and praying for something that is still nothing but a figment of my imagination. While my head knows that I still have plenty of time, I am still equally convinced that my ovaries will shrivel up and die if I don't have a kid in the next five minutes. Whoever coined the phrase "biological clock" could not possibly have been a thirty-something-year-old woman. This isn't a clock my friends, it's a goddamned ticking time bomb.

Time seems to be running out for my dear husband as well. When we married, he was older and established in a sexy "now there's a real man" provider-for-my-children kind of way. Only the children never materialized, and now he is staring 42 in the face. And he is not too thrilled with what he sees. His dad died at 67, and so Mo feels like he has maybe 15-20 good years left. Which doesn't bode well when you are contemplating babies. Maybe it's a mid-life crisis thing, but he keeps on talking about moving to the beach, to Florida or California or even the Bahamas. He wants to enjoy the years he has left, and let's be honest: there is little that is enjoyable about IF, IVF, or miscarriage.

All that being said, I do still think we will pull one more fresh cycle out of our hats this summer. One last shot at a bio-baby. I fear, though, that my erstwhile husband will be officially D-O-N-E after that. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I will not be. I admire those women who are able to say "enough" and to get off the crazy train before losing all their marbles. But I also know me, and I know I will not be able to give up as long as there is the tiniest shot in hell that I can have the child I have wanted for so very long.

I didn't mean for this post to end up so melancholy. I have had a wonderful birthday, and I feel the love from all sides. My sister and my parents, my students, and Mo have all spoiled me terribly rotten. I know that I am incredibly lucky to have people who love me, healthy and alive and close by. I have a job that fulfills me and makes me feel like I am doing something worthwhile in the world. I have a lot, and not having a baby doesn't mean my life isn't full and rich and so much better than probably two-thirds of the planet's. I know all that, and I am beyond grateful for the many, many good things in my life.

But I would be lying if I said it was enough. It's not enough, and I feel selfish saying that, but it's true. I want it all, and I won't stop reaching for it until that ticking time bomb finally explodes.

Thank goodness I still have a few years until it does. ;-)