A baby Story

I can’t believe that 4 years ago I created this blog to help me get through infertility. 4 years of tears, and anger and fear. Years of being okay being childless, and months of begging to have a child.

It’s so hard to believe that I’m writing this post, with a 6-week old baby boy on my lap. It was/is nothing like I expected. 4 years ago, I thought a baby was going to be glorious. I was going to walk around with that ‘new mom’ glow. I was going to be complete.

I am complete. I was complete before I had Baby Boy. Once I decided that I was going to live happily without children, I learned to be okay with everything else in my life. I NEEDED that revelation. Now that I have him, I’m still very much happy and in love.

That new mom glow? Thats from scrubbing all the vomit/spit up off your face. lol. College prepared me for little sleep, so the 2-3 hours stints of sleep I am getting used to.

I was terrified about Labor, but I had an amazing L&D. 7 minutes of pushing and this little guy came out at 6 lbs 9oz. They say that when you hold your baby for the first time- time stops and you cry. Let me be honest. Time didn’t stop and I didn’t cry. Everything was happening so fast….it was hard for me to believe that 7 minutes ago Baby Boy was inside of me…and now….now he’s out and crying and my responsibility.

I cried twice during the pregnancy/new mom time. The first time I cried was during the 20 week ultrasound when I saw him squirming and moving and perfect. He was healthy and perfect…and at that time I realized…. I was going to have a baby. As many of you know, infertility and loss is devastating. I refused to accept I was pregnant until I saw the ultrasound. I refused to even think of a nursery until the ultrasound. Once I saw it, I was overjoyed with how much love I felt for him. It was the first time I acknowledged I was going to be a mother.

The second time I cried is when the nurses wheeled me out to the curb, put the baby on my lap and placed me in the car. As soon as the car door closed, and my husband looked at me in the review mirror and said ” Ready to go home?” I LOST IT! He was finally mine. Mine to love and mine to take care of. No more nurses to help. No more catch net. I was a mother and I was taking this baby home to his nursery.

As for me. I’m doing well. I was afraid of losing my sense of self, but with a supportive husband and family, I have been able to still be me. I went back to running at 3 weeks PP. I feel stronger and healthier than ever. I lost all my baby weight in the first two weeks (breastfeeding benefits!) and I’ve decided to continue pursing what I wanted to do prior to conception.

Baby’s don’t change everything…but they do change a lot. They change the way you eat, sleep and live. They can be exhausting and assholes sometimes…but I never imagined that I could still be myself, and have this little guy be the best companion.

My advice for anyone who wants it….don’t lose your sense of self. Be happy and love your life. Your child will see happiness through you, and will respond with happiness in return.

Baby Fever – Where are you?

I thought it would be so different. I thought that once you find out you’re pregnant, your whole world changes. You change. Your priorities change. Although this is the case, it’s not as drastic as I imagined. I thought that once I got over the initial shock of being pregnant, and saw the heartbeat, that I would be all about this baby. I anticipated baby fever would consume my life…. but at 27 weeks pregnant, I still don’t even have a color picked out for a nursery (Though it’s going to be blue!) . I haven’t been shopping at baby stores, or flipping through The Bump any chance I get. I haven’t been reading birthing/parenting/family blogs and magazines. My life is not consumed by this baby, although I feel like it should- and for that I have pangs of guilt.

I really loved where I was at 9 months ago. I was in shape. I was happy. I loved my husband. We had plans to go to the Caribbean this spring. I was in the midst of changing careers, before I got pregnant. I never thought I would cry anything but tears of happiness once I got pregnant, but I did.

I want to be happy. I’m not saying that being a mom isn’t going to be a enough, or make me happy  (because I am more in love with him every time he kicks me)- but I want to still have my life. I want my son to be able to see his mother be strong and happy, and hold other woman in his life to those same standards.

I guess I am afraid of loosing my identity for/to this child.  Does anyone else feel the same?

I have such supportive friends and family –  and it’s been great. I have been keeping in fairly good shape this pregnancy. I’m starting to get back into running (though not very much- maybe a mile!), I’m still eating really well – I haven’t craved anything but fruit and ice water this entire pregnancy. Instead of talking about nursery colors and looking for cute wall decor, I’ve been looking at the baby joggers. I’ve been pinning how to get fit with your baby postpartum.   At the end of my maternity leave, my goal is to go back to the Academy. And that makes me happy.  My friends have been supportive – keeping my spirits up when I’m winded walking up a flight of stairs- and break down crying,  thinking I’ll never be able to run my mile and a half again in a few months to get into the Academy. But I am constantly reassured. I’ve received a ton of Police onesies for this little guy, and I laugh and smile every time a new one comes in the mail.  I am so blessed to have such an understanding group of friends- who both understand the challenges and joys I’ll be facing as a new mom while also wanting to continue to better myself and change careers.

But seriously, I’m 27 weeks pregnant – you would think I’d get my shit together and start putting together a nursery right?

Did anyone else fear losing their identity? Did anyone else feel the pressure of society, telling you that if you don’t spend every waking hour daydreaming about your child, you are a terrible parent already?

Am I in the wrong, to want more for myself?

 

 

 

Coconut Oil and ACV

I thought this was a great post. I was reading a lot about coconut oil, since I gave up dairy in September. I just thought I’d pass it along for any ladies TTC, who haven’t’ given up dairy yet. It’s actually quite incredible, how giving up something, as simple and wheat or dairy, can change so much. I use to have a flushed face all the time, and one day my gf at work told me her sister had the same issues – 10 days off dairy and she was clear skinned. So I tired it- and don’t ever want to go back. It sounds hard, and it is hard, but for the most part- nothing really dairy is good for you, that you can’t find in an Almond alternative…which Almond milk has more vitamins and calcium that cows milk.

http://natural-fertility-info.com/coconut-oil-necessary-for-building-hormones-and-a-healthy-baby.html

I also wanted to share a link on Apple Cider Vinegar. I know us ladies, when TTC, it feels (more than feels, it quite accurate to confirm) that we have read every possible solution to help treat infertility- especially when the doctor tells you it ‘unexplained infertility’.  Being told you have “unexplained infertility” was like hearing him say, “You are working fine- apparently a baby just doesn’t think you’re good enough”.

Anyway, if you haven’t already Apple Cider Vinegar (in the raw), is so good for you. It helps loose weight, clears up your skin, and allows you to change your diet for the better, if you are finding it more difficult to eat healthy after being addicted to holiday foods the last few months.

http://www.natural-health-for-fertility.com/apple-cider-vinegar-for-fertility.html

Anyway, I was reading some articles today, and wanted to pass it along, for anyone who hasn’t tried these alternatives.

Fear in the Truth

I’ve typed the first sentence of this blog over 30 times and keep deleting it. Part of me doesn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to revisit the past. I don’t want to feel like I did three years ago – but as time passes, all I find is that the feeling I have tried hiding is denial. Denial that I will ever be ‘over it’. While there are days that I felt normal – full of life,  there are the days where the fear of knowing that I’m not okay – that I will always be a little bit nervous and anxious about infertility.

So why am I here? Why did I come back? Maybe it’s because during the worst days, I had a group of ladies who were there for me. That knew what I was going through, and I felt powerful by reaching out to them- writing to them and for them, while receiving the very same comfort in their own writings.

I’m here because I’m scared. I was so happy with how my life was going. Getting strong, working towards a new career, relocating – everything was exactly how it should – until I realized I was late back in October – and a HPT confirmed – I had indeed gotten pregnant.

I blogged about what it would be like to not be trying, and miraculously get pregnant. How incredible it would be, to have such a wonderful surprise- but as I sat there, staring at the very dark double lines…. I cried. I cried because I didn’t want to be back here. I didn’t want to miscarry again. I didn’t want to want it. I wanted to join the police department. I wanted to run and travel and drink Margaritas with my husband on Friday nights. I didn’t want anything to change.

5 YEARS of trying. Chlomid- dr. ‘s appointments, post coital exams (**shivers**). I didn’t want to return to it. since I’ve never been able to get past 5 weeks of being pregnant, I stayed in denial the first full week…. and part of the second week… I called the OBGY and told them, and they told me to come in  if I make it to week 7- 8. I’ve heard that before, but never made it. I loafed around my apartment in a daze. What the hell did I do? How did this happen?! Well… I know exactly how and when…but how was this different from any other Friday night with the husband? Week 8 came. I went to the hospital with my husband. We parked in the garage. I passed the labor and delivery room, and saw all the pregnant women and babies, and I lost my shit.

I sat in the car and cried so hard, I couldn’t breath. Full out panic attack. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t belong there. I was infertile, and I will never be pregnant for that long. I can’t carry to term. I felt like an absolute fool for even acknowledging that I was pregnant. My poor husband- he didn’t know what to do, other than help with the snot running down my face.

Thoughts ran wild through my head. My mind fought constantly between the though of wanting and not wanting this.  It’s not that I didn’t want to have children- though I was entirely comfortable with the idea of it then- I didn’t want to want another child, only to lose it. What if I go in there, and they tell me it was a false Positive? What if they tell me I WAS pregnant, but it never developed? I know that I can’t get pregnant, why do I want to put myself through this again, and be surrounded by women who could?

I changed into the gown- sick to my stomach with anxiety of confliction. And then she showed me the tiny flicker of the heart beat. I looked at my husband and broke down again. I was pregnant. We sent the pictures to his family, and my family- and everyone was over joyed- except for me. I hated the idea that I am still stuck in the mindset that I am infertile-  that this can’t happen to me.

I am 10 weeks, and still worried. Still in denial. I dont want to talk about it when my friends ask how I am. I tell them all my other feelings, and act like I’m not pregnant. I tell them about work, and the dogs, and the latest news article I read. I talk about what my husband and I are going to be doing for the holidays. Then I hate myself more for being in denial.

Will I ever accept it? I’ve been very sick, but then I wake up days like today, and I feel fine, and I immediately think ‘It’s over‘. I dont want to in denial. I want to be happy for this. This is what I wrote for so many years right? This is exactly what I wanted when I endured the dr’s appointments, and the drugs and tests.

My husband tells me that if it ‘doesn’t work out’ (meaning I lose it), I can call the PD and be reinstated. If It does work, then we will have a family. But I’m just not ready to accept it – I’m afraid that even just blogging about it, will jinx me- or that once I start accepting and wanting this, I will lose it.

So I’m here, because there is fear in the truth that I’m pregnant. I’m terrified to accept it….. and I need you ladies in what ever capacity you can provide comfort, or advice, or something.

I have my next dr. appointment next Friday – I’ll be just shy of 12 weeks. I’m so nervous I could throw up. What if it stopped growing at 8 weeks? Why is there so much fear?

 

Hiatus

Hello my beautiful ladies.

It’s been too long since I’ve been on here. I haven’t forgotten about you, or my blog that I found such comfort in for many years. The truth is, is that I have been avoiding it. When we stopped trying to pursue the child avenue, I wanted to rid myself from all memories of the TTC process. The strangers I bonded with here, the blogs about two week waits, OPKS, the heartbreak of a period every month -everything. I started a new blog about traveling and our lives, all in hopes to try and truly escape the pain of being barren.

I can’t even begin to tell you how drastically my life has changed in that hiatus. My husband and I traveled. I started doing things for me… Present me. Not ‘what if I have kids’ me… but just me. I decided to go back to school, to peruse a passion in the sciences. I applied for a random job as a Police Officer … why? Because it was a challenge that I wanted to try- I didn’t have a family to hold me back, and it was something I could put all my blood, sweat and tears into. I worked my ass off every single day to get to where I needed to be. I ran every day getting my time down. I went from 4 to 25 pushups. I went from running at mile and a half in 18:00 to doing it in 14:00. I felt strong… and best of all, I felt free. Honestly free.

Sometimes, life is strange. But I wanted to say hello to all my ladies who were so supportive so many years ago. I hope everything is perfect in your lives.

Mrs. M

To my 23 year old self

Life on the Rocks

To my 23 year old self,

You are getting married this year. Congratulations. Your marriage is going to be fun – not perfect – but it will be fun. There are going to be times of pure bliss, and days you feel like you made the wrong choice. You didn’t. You are going to get married to your best friend, you are going to be uprooted from what you know now, and you are going to move to the ‘big city’. Don’t be scared – you are going to thrive. You are going to have a couple different job – some will make you question humanity, and others will make you wake up with purpose.

I know you are 23 – you are strong, and you have goals. You know what you want. You’ve come a long way, since you moved to the US when you were 18 by…

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Running away

I find that running away from your problems is one of the healthiest things you can do — or at least for me it is. I keep talking about how hard this winter was, and yet here I am…. staring at an August calendar. Where did the summer go?

I dug deep down in my dresser until I found my favorite pair of running shorts, a pair  of lime green socks, and my running top. I put on the clothes, hoping to immediately be transformed in to this rock-star running-like Goddess… Ready to feel the energy pulse through me, like Rocky before a match– Eye of the Tiger secretly playing in my fictitious background theme song— but to my humble surprise, there was no feeling of awesomeness. No feeling of immortal power…no ‘Adriannnnnn!’….just an overly tight sports bra, and shorts that use to fit, accentuating a very frumpy spare tire.

What… the Hell.

 

It’s been busy this year already. We got back from Europe in the second week of July, and had to hit the ground running. I kissed my husband goodbye and ‘until next weekend’, while I stood in my back yard wondering….’How am I doing to do this’? The weeds had over grown my yard, the trees needed to be trimmed, the gutters needed to be cleaned out, the dog shit needed picked up, my bank account was completely empty since we decided to ‘live it up’ in Europe.

It’s the kind of overwhelming feeling,  where it truly gets harder to breath, and all you want to do is lay down and take a nap. I didn’t know where to start. So I decided to do something I had been longing to do since last year — run away from my problems.

I needed to breath (heavily), i needed to feel pain in my sides, and sweat down my back — I’d take anything than the anxiety that was consuming me.

There is something very therapeutic about a trail run. The nature, the air, the mental stamina to not trip (or have a heart attack). It was hard… and I hated myself every tenth of mile I struggled, I hated myself for giving up last year. I  did so well. I was up to 5 miles last year, I ran 4 races, with a decent mile pace.

Now… now I’m a pathetic blob on the trail, to winded to even swear out loud. But I’m getting there. I’m not giving up. I signed up for a race at the end of August, so that I have a reason to train and push myself.

I love my thoughts on the trail though. On the days I don’t feel like I’m dying, I actually think. I think about Fall, and pumpkins. I think about how I am going to tackle my yard work, and pay off my student loans…I think about how damn good I want to look in a fall sweater this year– so damn it keep running!

I feel small, yet a part of something so much bigger when I’m out there. I hope that I can tackle this race in three weeks. It’s going to be hard.. very hard….but maybe if I keep a list of my problems, I can see how fast I can run away from them.

I’m not sorry

Does anyone else get the feeling that they are always apologizing? 

Apologizing for your appearance, or your schedule. Apologizing to friends because your personal life has been a priority? apologizing to your neighbors because you let the weeds in your beds get out of control? Apologizing to the car next to you, because your breaks are obnoxiously loud (Yes… I did this today…. yes, I need to get them fixed)

I find that I apologize far to much, over things I’m not sorry for, as if, it helps people resent me less. It’s not even that I say “I’m sorry” all the time, but I notice, I try and put a negative tone to things, to not make them sound so great. 

For instance, my husband and I went to Europe this past June. It was amazing how little support we got for it (not that we needed support). People at work asked if i was going anywhere during my two weeks off and I would say “Just visiting family”, and it was so much better received  then “Going to Germany to see my dad, and then to the south of France for a weekend for my cousins wedding”. 

People hate happy people. No one remembers that I couldn’t have kids, so rather that sit around and play out the life of 3 children in my head on the weekends, I’m taking my life by the horns and riding it! 

His sister in law is disgusted with us. I booked a secret cruise to the Bahamas over Memorial Day, I didn’t tell the husband about it, until the last minute. you should have seen the excitement on his face. We live apart, so when we get the change to spend 4 solid days of romance and tropical weather — we take it. Why should I feel apologetic for it? His sister in law truly asked “So…what’s the deal with all these trips?” as if i was supposed to have a reason to spend time with my husband. When opportunities come up, we take them….because we don’t have kids, and we have vacation time built up. Reason enough for me!

I’ve had a lot happen in my life. Some great things, and some not so wonderful. I’ve been given a lot of great opportunities, and i know that i am lucky for them. I also know, that i am open minded and flexible, therefore, more ‘opportunities’ come to me. 

My mom died 6 days before Christmas when I was 14 years old. 5 months later my dad was relocated to Germany. He didn’t (nor did we) have much use for Christmas any more, so to avoid the holiday all together, my dad would take us skiing 2 hours south of where we lived. The resort happen to be in the Austrian Alps, so when people learn that I’ve “skied the Alps” their perception of me turns into something far from the truth, and not so flattering. “spoiled” 

I recently told one of the ladies at my office, that I was offered a volunteer position at one of the Chicago Museums — and i was SUPER excited, because i don’t have kids, and i get to work with the scouts and school kids doing science experiments! as soon as I told her, she honestly asked, “Does your family come from money?”. What in the hell is that suppose to even mean?! so i replied, “I’m sorry?” , “Money… does your family come from it? You just sound like you had a very rich childhood”. I responded, “Lynn… we are talking about volunteering on Saturdays….what in the Hell does that have to do with money?”, “well it just sounds to me, that you do all these crazy things, you just got back from Europe, and when you talk, you just seem so cultured and educated”. I’m sorry? should I apologize for coming off  as a well rounded, educated and cultured 28 year old? Should I explain that I was forced to move abroad ( thought it was pretty fuckin’ sweet!) and I’m super nerdy, and that my parents weren’t wealthy, especially after 2 years of Chemotherapy and a funeral?

I’m just tired of being sorry. We told his parents that we were going to plan to go back to Europe in April, and they were less than pleased. They didn’t understand why we needed to go back, a year after we were just there.  Maybe i should have rephrased, “We are going to go visit my dad in April, a year after i saw him last”. Makes a difference right? But why do I need to? Why do i need to explain every choice I make, as if to help lessen the resentment I get form others. 

I’m not apologizing unless I truly mean it. I want to enjoy the time i have with my Family, my husband, my dad, and this life! I’m going to take those lemons life gave me dammit, and I’m going to make the best damn lemonade! 

Here is a list of things I’ve been chastised for, where I felt the need to apologize when really… I wasn’t sorry at all!

I’m not sorry for:

  • Traveling
  • Being in a ridiculously happy marriage
  • Not going through invasive infertility treatments
  • Owning Pit bulls
  • Not wearing makeup
  • missing workouts
  • not being a Christian
  • for loving Science and Archaeology
  • being a “tree-hugger” and recycling
  • trying to be mostly vegetarian, but enjoying the occasional  hamburger with pickles
  • living in Chicago — although I love the country — this is a great city!!!
  • being educated and bilingual 
  • financially conservative and socially liberal
  • my brakes squealing (actually no, they were obnoxiously loud, and I really was sorry for the painful sound!)

I love my life. We all make choices, and i am making a choice to live happily. I’m not just reading an inspirational quote about life, but I’m choosing to live my life like the inspirational quotes I read. I’m not going to apologize for not forcing myself to seek infertility treatments. I’m not going to apologize for booking secret romantic getaways whenever the opportunity (and cheap group-on Deals) arise.  

Why do we feel the need to?

The weekend of the Baby

This weekend has brought many answers and clarity that I’ve waited for a while to bring. My best friend had some interviews this weekend in my area, and was coming up for the weekend. She brought her baby (who I’ll call JP) along, and needed someone to watch him while she was in the interviews. 

When she told me she was coming up for the weekend – I was SO excited. I was thinking girls weekend in the city. I was thinking wine bars, and Taste’s and live music, and staying up until 2 am catching up. Then the day before she came, she told me she was bring JP along too. I must say, i was a bit disheartened. I was in need of a girls weekend. But that’s okay. I was in the room when JP was being born, I went to see him when he was a month old, now that he is 6 months old, it was nice to see him again! I agreed to watch him during the day — it was the first time I’ve actually played “mom”. I haven’t babysat since I was 10, and I’m never really around children because we move so much. So part of me was a bit excited. My husband though, was nervous that I was going to be a train wreck, and go straight to the bank and take out a loan for IVF after  holding JP all day. To my surprise, it was not so much the case. 

My friend got off the plane a changed women. There was no girly chit-chat. There was no “How have things been?!”. it was business. it was baby. it was sad. 

It seemed as though, since she was the one with the baby, that trumped anything that came out of my mouth. All my ideas were second, because she was a mom, and therefor anything we did must be JP friendly too. The entire ride from the airport to the house was all about JP, and the woes in her life. 

I stayed home from work that day, so she could go to her interviews and I watched JP. Her husband called me and asked if I was getting baby fever yet (kind of cruel to ask, if you ask me), and oddly enough — I wasn’t. That baby was a lot of work, but so are a lot of things, my husband for instance – but I still love him! I had absolutely no feelings of attachment to this child. I even strapped him into one of those baby-wearing shenanigans so I could have both my hands free while I got caught up on e-mails, house chores ect. We even took a nap together (babies are seriously exhausting) and I thought that I might feel that bond — because who wouldn’t with a precious little infant napping on your chest while you drift off? Me. Not a single feeling of joy. What in the hell is wrong with me? He was adorable, and I played with him, I fed him, sang to him, changed him, and at the end of the day, I still felt nothing. I tried making myself believe he was mine for the day, so that I could truly feel what it would be like – and all I felt was tired and more alone than I had ever been. I felt like I missed my husband more, because I gave all this attention to this child. I missed my dogs, since they were in the backyard all day. I missed my quite-coffee-pinterest time — by mostly I missed my husband. 

JP’s mom came home, and we went out to dinner, and I was surprised how unenjoyable it was. she didn’t talk much. She took a LOT of pictures of JP while at dinner, and spent the rest of the night sucked into facebook. What happened? Is this modern-day parenting? 

Then the next day, she asks me what I planned on doing with my ‘situation’. I tried explaining that I believe my biological clock has passed. That the times trying for a baby, made my life a living hell, and if something isn’t broke — then why fix it? I told her that nothing felt missing in my life, and that we were actually very happy with our lives. We enjoy the dogs, and moving and traveling, and coffee, and uninterrupted adult time. We enjoy smelling the cool fall air in the morning, and decided to drive to the Mississippi and rent a cabin for a night. I told her “I think we are just going to keep on keeping on, you know?” 

No. She didn’t. She told me “There is always adoption”. HEY, all my infertility friends, did you know that if you can’t have your own children, you could adopt?! Why do people bring that up, as if we never considered having children any other way that vaginally?  What they don’t consider is the heartbreak of the process along with the expenses and time needed and invested into it. She didn’t understand that we were fine. I told her in a couple years (like 10), if we feel the need to have children, then we would consider that, but right now, we are doing okay. 

She kept trying to find a solution for me to have children, as if, it couldn’t be possible for me to be okay, with just the two of us. Can’t it? 

My friend had changed. She seemed angry and pissed off at the world. She had distanced herself from real life, and only communicates through facebook. Nothing seemed good enough for her, and it acts like the world owes her. 

It’s not that I don’t like children. It’s not one of ‘those’ situations. I want to volunteer at orphanages, and work directly with children — it’s just that that maternal/parenting instinct is gone…..

So why do I feel so guilty for feeling so okay?

 

 

 

Why not me?

So strange to be back. To be back reading my old bloggers posts. Bloggers who wanted so badly to be parents, and who are in their final weeks of pregnancy, and those who are on another month of trying.

I don’t know whats come over me – but I am so conflicted my stomach actually turns. Maybe because last week was my birthday. Another year older. We were actually in Europe for my birthday. The hubs and I traveled, drank, laughed and loved in pure bliss the whole trip.
My best friend called a couple weeks ago to announce that she is, regrettably pregnant. She never wanted to have children, it just accidentally happened one night with her boyfriend. Although I felt NO envy, I still had a pang of “Why not me?” go through my soul.

Why not me?

My husband and I still talk about the ‘maybe baby’ option. Now that all of our friends have children, we’ve seen them post all the baby pictures, the family picnics, and pictures of the last few years as their child has grown — and to be honest, through those picture we realized…. maybe we don’t want to be parents. My husband, after taking all these trips (we randomly went to the Caribbean over a long weekend a few months ago), that he doesn’t really want to have children. I… I thought I did once. I wanted them so badly, and now I don’t know. The only reason I toy with the option, is because I am afraid I will regret one day for not having them, or even worse– regret having them?

It’s just a very strange stage of our lives, and really, the idea of regret, or running out of time to decide, is what perplexes me. I have no more maternal instinct. I was in the airport, and saw a mother with children running around, and I admitted “Thank God that’s not us, eh?”

We went camping with some family, who all had children, and they (the parents), looked so tired and miserable. My husband and I cozied up, made s’mores, and slept outside in a tent – in peace. i admit,  I’m selfish because I love husband-wife time. I love romantic dates, random getaway trips, and doing whatever the hell we want on a Saturday. 

I really do love this life – will regret come? Or is it possible to continue loving being a childless family? We already have our destinations picked out for next year, and have even talked about buying a condo in Florida, so we have a place to go and stay while we Dive (scuba). 

 

So,  if I like my life so much, and I enjoy the child-free option, and pictures of my friends children don’t make me sad/jealous/motivated — why do I still have doubt?