DINK, by choice or not?

November 12, 2015 is a significant date to me although those around me may not know this. My husband and I always assumed we would have children. It was the natural expectation, right? Finish college, get married, and then have kids. Early in our marriage, I would tell people that my husband and I would talk about having kids in a couple years. Those couple years never really came. I was never really sure about being a mother and I wanted to accomplish more in my career. At the same time though, I thought eventually it would happen. During college in the 80s, it was common for female students to be encouraged to have their careers first and then focus on having a family because with science and technology advances, we would be able to delay having children. We were told we would easily be able to get pregnant well into our 30s and into our 40s. Test tube babies were successful and who knew what else may be possible.

Eventually I started thinking that something was wrong. Surely after all these years of not using birth control, why would we not have a ‘surprise’? We never really talked about it. We knew other couples that were pregnant within two months of deciding to try – which for them meant going off the pill or quitting other forms of birth control.

Finally, a bike wreck caused me to start thinking seriously about trying to get pregnant. After giving our background to the Repro/Endo, it was decided we both needed to have some tests. The tests revealed there were issues with both of us. We could skip Clomid – we didn’t need to waste our time. After three cycles of trying advanced methods, we decided to stop. We already knew in our hearts that it was not going to work for us.

Three months later I was at my annual GYN appointment. For whatever reason, they always ask for the date of your last period. Mine had become a little irregular even for me. It had been six weeks, but that didn’t mean anything. I took a urine pregnancy test while I was there without even thinking about the outcome. That is until the nurse came back into the room and asked if I had been more tired recently. I still didn’t get it. She told me I was pregnant. I think I almost passed out. How could that be possible?

As you have now probably figured out, the pregnancy was not successful. I miscarried a month later. That was ten years ago. I admit that I think about the child we did not have on a fairly regular basis with some dates having more meaning than others such as the date of finding out we were pregnant. One date that never passes without me shedding tears is the due date – November 12.

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