So I've been trying to get pregnant for quite sometime and have been unsuccessful. But, the experience of this kind of desire has lifted my spirits to a completely different level. The research and reading has taught me so much about infertility and fertility. When I had Jennifer 26 years ago, another pregnancy never crossed my mind; I was too busy raising her and working full-time and going to college. And I certainly did not have time to find the right guy. Really, I was never looking for the right guy. Life has changed as expected; Gera and I have been at our relationship for almost four years. It's so very on!
Most women at my age are reaching, going through, or have completed menopause. Luckily, I am not there yet; an ultrasound and other test results show I have still got lots and lots and lots of eggs. Good ones! Before we knew this, Gera was checked and, of course, he is more than fine: 37 years old and Mexican----NO PROBLEMS THERE!!
It's all strange. I remember a time when I didn't have to think about stuff like this (ahhh how youth flies, but aging is literally and figuratively beyond graceful). However.....even with my lots and lots and lots of good eggs, my doctor has warned me: "Time is not your friend." I am so flawed--as my 43rd birthday approaches, I become more and more optimistic about our attempt. I decided that if I only have 1.5 to 2 years left to make it happen, as he says, I might as well reach for the stars and I'm gonna. This is not a Jolie, Kidman, or sister, gaze. Gera and I decided a while ago that we wanted to have at least one more. He has one son--who is 16. Our relationship reached this level a long time ago. He's not overly interested in hearing about fibroids, uteruses (I know it's 'uteri', but uteruses sounds more me), or good eggs, but he has been an excellent partner from the very beginning. He just says, "I'm here. Let's do it."
In December, I will have out patient surgery to have a big'ol fibroid removed from inside my uterus---it's the reason we aren't conceiving. We will go from there and see what happens. We have had the 'other' discussion--if we can't--and we are so good on this too. Surprisingly, it's all very exciting!!
I promise not to turn my blog into a infertility/fertility blog, but I will post when Gera and I can expect to become parents--together, something I've never experienced. The pressure is on, and it's the good kind.
It's May 2012 and nothing has changed since November.11. I am all smiles at my relationship and myself. My honey and I continue to amaze each other on a daily basis. We're still ever so 'in' with each other. I completed my MA in literature last May and I'm teaching four college English courses to really smart students. I am hopeful to enter a doctorate program soon. This way, I can run out.All is scary good.
upon hearing your voice life again expands like moon crest like pomegranates swell to the sun and you are patient because god calls
when he came for you this morning you were bent into the flower bed singing black hymns so he left you alone until this third afternoon but even then he found you elbow deep in jewel weed with a mouthful of figs from a nearby tree again he waited because each time seemed to him an inconvenience and a wrong moment
and it was your persistent humming that drove him up and back until he could get his timing perfect he waited another day or so until
your gardening tools rest into porch corners your paring knife shines deeply into a drawer your hair comb lies slanted in a shoebox your wedding band hides in the mattress your fishing rod stays stolen
the sound of your voice desires to sing or hum but this time is perfect he has covered you like lavender-colored silence but he has also added streaks of olive green and pink because this is what the other soul-folk has told him to do and he has become tired in the process and therefore begins to rush sonances of your body he finds you the least complex when you are not outdoors digging in that garden, humming hymns and thriving and for a moment he questions his own timing its perfection and everything goes accordingly until he finds you have buried fruit peels and wandering jew petals underneath your back this does not anger him but it tilts his agility to deliver you and in his own questioning and presence of smells that he cannot privilege all this over powers his choice all this reels his otherwise perfection into letting you go
when i see you sitting in the plush squares of limitless St. Augustine your eyes are lit like crystal warmed soil releases from each of your hands
how did i get to this point this point of knowing you for you are nearly a century old