I always had the dream that I would be a mom.  When I was a little girl, I would play house with my dolls and stuffed animals. I pretended that my dolls and stuffed animals were my babies and I was their mommy.  I loved playing house and pretending that I was the Mom and my only job was to take care of my babies. This dream goes back as far as I can remember. I didn’t really think it was a dream at that time, but rather what my reality would be…someday.

Fast forward to my early 30’s.  I’m married, albeit, not happily, (more on that another time) and I am unexpectedly pregnant.  I’m thrilled! Ecstatic! Beyond excited! I get the official “your pregnant” from my OBGYN and go about living my newly pregnant life with glee and gusto.  

During my first trimester, I lost weight because I couldn’t keep any food down. I was so sick but elated to be pregnant. My dream of being a mommy was finally coming true. Soon I will be caring for, loving and nurturing another human! I will love this little being with all of my heart and give it the best possible life I can.  I am walking on cloud nine.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 11 weeks and 5 days. I was standing in my kitchen and out of nowhere my back tensed and the immediate pain knocked me to my knees. It was excruciating, more painful than anything I had ever felt before. I have a really high pain tolerance and have experienced a lot of physical pain in my life due to a few accidents. For it to be this awful and for me to be in such excruciating pain, you know it had to be really bad!  My voice was shaky as I told my ex-husband we needed to go to the hospital. He talked me out of it because of the cost and assured me it wasn’t anything serious. I reluctantly agreed but my gut was telling me something different…none the less, I waited it out until Monday.

I should have listened to my gut and taken myself to the ER, but hindsight is 20/20 right?!  I also know (now) that there isn’t anything that could have been done at that time. As I write this, all the emotions I felt fifteen years ago are coming back up for me.  Sadness, hopelessness, worry, anxiety, you name it, I felt it.

The outcome of my Monday morning 12-week doctors appointment wasn’t good.  I lost the baby. My body was not able to release it on its own, so that explains the excruciating pain.  I was taken into surgery a couple of hours later and had a D&C.

When I came out of surgery and went home, I was devastated.  My entire world stopped. I couldn’t cope. I couldn’t stop crying.  No-one could console me. I blamed myself. I thought it was my fault for not going to the hospital on Friday night.  My ex-husband didn’t know what to do with me or how to talk to me. From that moment on, our marriage suffered irreparable damage without either of us realizing it at the time.  That was the beginning of the end. When I was pregnant, I was going to stay and make things work. Once I wasn’t pregnant any longer, all of our relationship’s faults were so evident to me.   It was so clear that this relationship was doomed and that my dream of being a mom was over.

I was too old.  I would never meet anyone to have a life with let alone a family with.  This was especially true for me as I was going through our divorce. As far as divorce’s go, ours was fairly amicable. We didn’t have any children to fight over.  We had two dogs and a house, but I chose to walk away from the dogs and the house for my own emotional well being. I filed the papers and moved out of the house. He didn’t make it super easy but he didn’t get in my way either.  I look back at this time in my life as my starting over phase and my time to forgive myself for some of my not so great life choices. If I had known better at the time, I would have done better.

Harlem

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

LANGSTON HUGHES

During the time between my divorce and meeting Steve, I self-soothed myself with lots of girlfriend time on patios, trips to Mexico and other fun places.  I also dated a lot of handsome, but not great for me, men.  I thought I was OK with casually dating.  After all, I wasn’t planning on getting married ever again and I wasn’t going to have a family, so I might as well have fun right?!

Fast forward 12 years. I am happily married to the man of my dreams. We are so good together. I feel my husband’s love in everything that he says and does for me. He not only tells me but he shows me how much he loves me on a daily basis. We speak the same love language and do very nice things for each other, often. We also have mutual respect and admiration for each other. My dream of becoming a mother has been reignited in my current marriage. We married almost four years ago and a little less than two years ago, we started looking into what it would take for us to become parents.

At the time of our marriage, I was 46 and I thought that ship had sailed. I felt that unless we adopted, I would never be a mom. I never thought in a thousand years that I would be able to get pregnant and actually carry a baby to term. I still had it in my head that my miscarriage was my fault and that I wouldn’t be able to sustain a healthy pregnancy.

After all of the testing (there was an obscene amount of tests we have done, me more than my husband) we were informed about IVF with donor eggs. We listened. We talked about the pros and cons. We looked into the expense compared to adopting. We called our insurance to ask if they would cover any of this. It turned out they do cover some of the expenses for IVF with donor eggs. So after many late night talks and meeting with the doctor a few times we decided to move forward with IVF with donor eggs. The next step was to find a donor and then get the ball rolling. I will dive deep into the process of finding an appropriate donor in a later post.

To wrap this beautiful and exciting dream of mine up, I’m going to leave you with a question. What happens to a dream deferred? Langston Hughes’ poem, “Harlem” is a beautiful tribute to my deferred dream. My dream has been reignited. What are you going to do with your deferred dream?

Blog