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infertility at 40

Luck be a lady…

Me and my progeny...

Me and my progeny...

Sometimes it hits me – I have a toddler. AND I have a 20 year old. AND I’m in my 40’s. AND… if Luck be a Lady and I’m that lady… I’ll be knocked up again, soon.

That’s right, glutton for the punishment that those small packages of little humans can dish out, I’m not feeling “done” yet in the producing progeny department. I’m scared, because of all the statistics out there… yadda yadda yadda… I heard them all before during the last go around with pregnancy. I was scared then and I’m scared now, but regardless, with the support of my partner in crime (shout out to Scott) we’re going to try for another one. I feel incredibly blessed to have this 2nd chance at parenting younglings. I’d forgotten how much I love being a “mommy”. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a “MOMMMMMM!!!” (usually accompanied by an eye-roll.) And I take a lot of pride in the fact that I’ve been able to get one amazing daughter to the age of 18 without too many scrapes and bruises to her physical and mental self. In fact, I think getting her to that “finish line” gave me the courage to try it again. Sort of a, “I didn’t screw it up too bad the first time, maybe I’ll get even better with practice….”

All ready I see that I’m a different mom in my 40’s than I was in my 20’s. My 20 year old parental self would sanitize all that was within a three feet radius of my little Sonora-nora-bug. If another kid touched her toy, I’d discreetly place it in my diaper bag, segragate it from the “clean toys” and hand Sonora a new toy (from the clean toy section of the diaper bag, duh!). Sonora never touched the carpet in her early non-crawling months. She was always on a blanket. Only ONE SIDE of that blanket ever touched the floor… and I could go on and on like this. Oh, but I could… I will openly admit I was a bit of a freak.

Jump ahead 20 years and I am happy to report that with my 2nd child I am no longer a super freak, not super freaky. In fact, recently I was doubled over laughing having just witnessed Dublin offer the dog a baby biscuit and, after the dog already gummed it, reneged on the deal and stuck it right into his own mouth. Doggy germs and all. Also, if that’s not enough to point out how far I’ve come, I even allow Dublin to sit… in…a..grocery..basket… without putting him in a protective bubble first!

All of this makes me wonder where I’ll be in another 20 years, because there is no way I would have guessed 20 years ago that I’d be here!

Waiting Game…

Baby Bump!

Baby Bump!

Almost one week ago I officially hit full-term. I was fully convinced that, because my daughter made her arrival shortly after hitting 37 weeks, this little guy would follow in her footsteps. Nope, that’s not the case at all. Tomorrow I’ll be 38 weeks and I am getting antsy to get this party started!!

While I’m so-over-the-top ready to have him, each day past that 37 week mark has brought with it a little bit of panic…. Dare I say, TERROR. I’m going to have a baby. I’M GOING TO HAVE A BABY!!!! I am seriously having a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that this is really happening. I know I must be crazy to have just past the finish line of an 18 year journey with my daughter, only to start up again. As my daughter keeps telling me, “Just think mom, you get to do back-to-school nights and parent teacher meetings all over again….” Yeah, not to forget, terrible twos, terrible teens and getting this new little man to eat his veggies. Instead of hitting my 40’s in search of travel deals, I’ve traded it all in for Boy Scouts and soccer.

I’m ready. I’m terrified. I’m ready…
I’m thrilled. I’m petrified. I’m thrilled….
Every time I have a Braxton hick, that has even the tiniest bit of pain associated with it, I’m giddy with excitement and anticipation. It doesn’t even feel like I’m starting a new chapter in life… it feels more like I’m starting a new book; a sequel. Fortunately for me, I am a book lover…