we interrupt your regularly scheduled life for the following....

Here's a profound observation - life doesn't always turn out like you think.

As we said in my obnoxious youth, no duh. Growing up, kids think being an adult is all about having freedom, i.e. control, but as I age, I believe it's mostly about realizing just how little control we have. Life is very much a game of timing and chance.

I remember playing a game as a child, naming four boys, four careers, four types of houses, cars, etc., then drawing a spiral with my eyes shut for a few seconds. You counted the rings of the spiral, then counted through your choices to that number, crossing out the choice you landed on. Over and over the counting went, until the player was down to one choice in each category, and that was who you would marry, where you'd live, etc.


One of those categories was how many children you'd have. I don't remember anyone ever putting 'zero' down as one of the choices, any more than we would have put down "nobody' as a possible spouse choice. We all presumed life would progress the 'normal' way - first comes love, then comes marriage....you get the jist.


In my twenties, I spent no small amount of time, care and worry making sure those life progressions took place in what I was raised to believe was the correct order. Hey, I'm a Southern girl. My mama raised me a certain way.


Even when I married at 29, I was in no rush to bring a child into the picture. I could kick myself now for being to cavelier about the passage of time, but at 30, I liked our life just like it was. I truly felt that if it were just me and B forever, that would be fine. And I didn't want to have a child just because it seemed like the logical next step in life. A child, I reasoned, should come when it was wanted more than my next breath.


Sounds great. Just one problem - I presumed, stupidly, that my body would cooperate with all of this. It never crossed my mind that when I got ready, the universe wouldn't just hand me what I wanted.

Have no doubt, I am now ready. It was my happiness with B that once gave rise to thoughts that the two of us alone might be enough, but now that happiness has grown, and I want so much to create and raise a child with this wonderful man. I want that little piece of him; to look at my child's face and see his features; to see my husband's wonderful character, humor and intellect in my baby.


But after over a year with no precautionary measures and a few months of calculated efforts, no baby. I've had dozens of positive ovulation tests and one positive pregnancy test that evaporated the next day, leading me to believe all is in working order, but nothing to show for it but a higher frustration level.

I don't want to give up hope, but as days and months pass, I am beginning to worry. I worry I will never get pregnant, but I also worry that I will. I can't ignore the risk that rises as I age - risk of complications and health problems for me, and those take a back seat to the chance my baby will suffer because I delayed so long. How long is it okay to keep trying, readers? When do I begin to explore other options? Or do I keep trying for the duration, believing God will deliver the desires of my heart?

Just like the decision of when to start trying, the decision of when to stop haunts me. It's a decision I never thought I'd ever consider, and now it seems to be the only one that matters.