Friday, January 27, 2012
Around five years in, Al and I discussed, and made the mindful decision to never have children. Al harbored serious concerns about something going horribly awry. I was just lazy.
We didn't last six months. Looking at each other thinking;
Ok. So. This is it. Us. Just. Us. Forever. You. And. Me.
We (meaning mostly me) decided that we (meaning mostly me) wanted kids and shazam! We were expecting Owen.
My younger sister is so very much like me. A few years ago, she and her husband decided they did not want children. He enjoyed his hobbies. She was just lazy.
Within a year or so, the decision no longer fit, and babies were on little Sister's brain.
Little Sis worked at an OBGYN office. Tests were done. Procedures even. Referral to fertility clinic was made.
More tests. For Sister and husband. Fertility doc gives her odds. Slim at best.
Complex medical history, few good eggs, motility issues, yadda yadda sorry no baby yadda...
Little Sis is in pain. Bad pain. Worst pain ever. Wanting to make pain go away, I offer up my eggs;
"Old and full of holes they may be. But they're yours if you want 'em."
For many reasons, it wasn't going to work.
Sister with more hurting. And me with wanting to make it go away.
"I'll carry the fucking thing for you. But just so you know? I have a shitty track record; if it comes out all fucked up, it's your problem."
For many reasons, that wasn't going to work either.
Not about to give up, Sis endures procedures, chances improve, insurance on board, she heads back to fertility clinic.
Cost of drugs to place baby in Sis is enough to feed third world country for a year. Neither Sis nor anyone in family has that kind of cash.
Baby dream squashed anew, Sis dives deep into dispair, quits job at OBGYN where pregnant bellies mock her barrenness daily and makes valiant attempt to get through the next minute of her life. And the minute after that. And the minute after that.
A couple months of minutes go by, and on a Monday, Sis and her husband are back at fertility clinic grasping for strand of hope. Thin strand is granted, but is sketchy at best.
Ten days later, on a Wednesday, thin strand in hand, Sis shows up to watch Bea for afternoon. She is early. And cranky. With weepiness and sore boobs and other PMS symptoms.
In her purse is pregnancy test which she is refusing to take because;
"My period isn't even due til tomorrow and I know I'm not anyway. I'll just wait til tomorrow."
Of course I direct her to bathroom and demand she piss on that stick, 'cause you never know.
You just never fucking know.
And of course she emerges from the bathroom crying. And trembling.
And showing me the stick.
And neither of us believe what we're seeing:
She's knocked up.
Knocked the fuck up.
And in the however many weeks since, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not believing that this impossible thing was true.
Even though impossible babies have happened in our family.
But today? I got to sit beside her and see with my own two eyes:
Brain? Check. Spine? Check. Heart? Check. Arms? Legs? Hands? Feet? Check.
Healthy looking BABY GIRL?