I’m a lucky bastard…

A few years ago, I thought I would have a lot of trouble getting pregnant. My period had never been regular when left to its own devices, my BMI was low, my sister had taken several months to get pregnant with her son and was never able to conceive again… So with my 30th birthday fast approaching, I was anxious to start trying to have a child because I was afraid it would take forever. I was working on convincing Zak that children were fun, something that brought something into your life instead of just taking. And he was starting to think he may consider being a dad one day.

And then I got pregnant. Looking back, the timing was pretty perfect: Zak and I both had stable jobs, stable (although relatively small) housing, we had just changed our eating habits to something much more healthy, our couple was going extremely well… It wasn’t planned, but it sure was wanted, and although we were not quite ready for it (are we ever?), we made the best of it.

Then when we decided to try and have another child, I was still worried. Sure, it worked (too) perfectly the first time, but what about 3 years later? Would it be different now that I was a bit older and I actually wanted to get pregnant? We “removed the goalkeeper”, as people say, and I got pregnant the first month. I never had a negative pregnancy test.

My best friend, on the other hand, has been trying to have a child now for about 4 years. I have been following her disappointment and trying to give her as much support as I can, but her situation sucks big time. She has gone through several tests that have found nothing, which means there is nothing to fix. And twice, she has had to put up with the news of her best friend becoming pregnant without any effort. Twice, she has hoped that maybe she would get pregnant in the next few months so our children would be close in age. So far, nothing. Through all that, she has not once slapped me on the side of the head (she would never do that, that’s just what I would feel like doing if I was in her shoes). Quite the opposite: she is graceful, welcomes us with open arms when we visit her, and is a sweetheart with our son.

I sometimes wonder how she does that. And what I would do if I was her. And how I would feel. But I’m not in her position. Not because I did anything she didn’t do, or because I deserve to have kids more than she does. Just because I am a lucky bastard.

At least I realize it… So thanks… and good luck!

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