So a lot has happened to make me feel, *ahem* older lately. I had a birthday. My son turned 12. I celebrated my 20-year high school reunion. And while any one of these things is enough to make you wonder whether you’ve done Oprah proud, one big question continues to nag at my consciousness: should I have another baby?
This mental tug-of-war has been going on for a while now. First there was the year when “No more babies!” was replaced by “Well, maybe one more baby,” followed by the year of, “Should we really? Could we really?” which ultimately led to last year’s pregnancy loss and general mistrust of the universe.
October 4th marked the one-year anniversary of my miscarriage and I’m sorry to say that I’m no closer to reaching resolution on the “maybe baby” front than I was three years ago. In fact, I’m probably further away than ever. And it’s cruel, ya know? The inevitable expiration of my fertility. And that’s what I’m struggling with. I’m 38 years old dealing with some female issues and my eggs are getting tired. I’m getting tired. But despite these unyielding truths, I can’t quite shake the suspicion that I’m not done having kids. [read more…]