I didn’t want to believe it. My period came on today after being almost four days late. I swore I was pregnant. I had the signs of a pregnancy but didn’t want to take the test until my birthday. I did want it to come, but then I didn’t. I secretly hope that I could get pregnant or at least wanted to believe that my chances of having another baby haven’t sufficiently dropped since the age of 35. I am two days away from turning 37 and according to science, my egg quality has dropped after the age of 35 and the chances of getting pregnant in any given month are about 10%. That’s a little over half of the 25% I would of have in my twenties to early thirties. Still, I held out hope that maybe, just maybe, my odds were slightly tilted to my favorite. But it didn’t. Aunt Flo teased her presents upon my panty liner with spotting the day before until I got up around twelve midnight to go to the bathroom, wipe myself, and found bright red blood on the toilet paper and blood in the toilet water.
I was heart broken. I wasn’t trying to get pregnant, but my husband and I aren’t preventing it either. It’s not that we don’t have children. We have two boys, one is four and one is one in a half. However, I would like to get a chance to have another baby. I would like a chance to have a little girl. Granted, there wasn’t a chance for me to get a girl, even if I got pregnant this time but it would still be a chance. It would be a chance to know if I was still fertile; a chance to know if it’s possible to be a mother to a little girl. I can see those chances dwindling as the months goes by.
I should be happy with the two boys I have and shouldn’t care about wanting a girl. My boys keep me busy and when people see how rambunctious they are, they comment to me, ‘I see you have your hands full.’ I translated it as, “You don’t need another kid. Your two children are enough.” They are and they should be enough, but a part of me thinks I’m missing out on not having a little girl. I see the bond that mothers and daughters have; the intimacy of sharing secrets that only they two can share, talking about girl stuff, having each other as a confidant and friend, talking about boys, etc. I long for a bond that my mother and I share and still do when we get together and talk. It’s like talking to a best friend, knowing I can tell her anything… wishing I had a daughter to have that same camaraderie with.
I have friends that have daughters. My comment to them is that it’s great they have a little girl that they can bond with. I also comment how beautiful they are and I wish I had one. The usual insensitive response is, ‘I’m glad I got my girl.’ It doesn’t matter if it’s their first try or fifth. It’s a proud moment for a woman to give birth to a girl… their little mini me. That may never be the case for me.
As I’m turning 37, I’m starting to weigh the options of having another baby. Wondering if I should take a chance that maybe, just maybe, God would bless me with a baby girl. Every time my period comes on, my heart gets broken. Reality is starting to set in that the older I get, the harder it is to become pregnant. Even if I could get pregnant, it may not even be a girl so why put my body through higher risk and complication at birth because I selfishly want a little girl of my own? It’s starting to make me look foolish.
I’m at a point where I don’t want my heart broken again. Every month I have a period, my heart breaks because it’s telling me that I couldn’t get pregnant this month. The reality is I am less fertile the older I get and I need to accept that, but I can’t keep thinking there’s still a possibility. The only way I see to fix my delusional state of mind is to get a permanent fix on my birth control. It may be time to get my tubes tied and come to the realization that my fertile days are nearly over. At least when I see Aunt Flo every month, I know it’s not because I can’t get pregnant because I’m nearing infertility, it’s because I decided to stop letting my heart get broken and realize that the dream of having a little girl wasn’t met to be. Maybe it’s time to start living my life free of envy and start loving my life with my boy’s only family and realizing that they are all I need.