4-Oh my

I've been debating amongst myself about whether or not I should celebrate my big 4-O, which is just a couple months away. I've always loved birthdays, but this is a tough one. I never thought it would be tough, I mean, having an issue with turning 40 is so... so... trite. After all, isn't 40 the new black and all that? Yet here I am... almost 40 and the sound of pitter-pattering little feet is nowhere to be found - and I am freaked out!!

I read this past week that the chances of conceiving naturally after 40 go down to five percent. Five percent. 5%!!!! I don't pretend to be a great mathematician, but that doesn't sound real promising.... After all, I didn't conceive naturally when I was 35, nor with the use of acupuncture, herbs, Clomid, or IUIs, since then. In a few short months, my chances apparently will fall even lower. Gee, I wonder why I have a problem with turning 40.

Also, my mom lost my dad - her husband of 22 years - when she was only 40. I knew then that 40 was very young, but now here I am. And though I'm not superstitious and though I know it's silly and irrational, that really freaks me out. I don't know exactly why. It makes no sense. But it's there, another black cloud lingering over my head.

My mom already had three kids - out of the house - by the time she turned 40. I, the youngest, was a freshman in college when dad died. It astounds me to think now that she was my age when she lost her husband. They were married 22 years, and later this year will mark 22 years since he's been gone. Unbelievable!

Oh, how I want a little Ar pitter-pattering about!! Oh, how I wish I could have known him and married him when I was younger, but it doesn't work that way. I found my prince in my 30s... and that's just the way it is.

I just so want to share that gift, which seems just beyond my reach, with him. It's all such a miracle, and I want us to be part of it. I don't know, I just want it so much that it breaks my heart to see it slipping further and further away. I want my dad and mom to live on, too. I do have a niece and a nephew, but I want to be part of that. Is that selfish? Is it selfish to want to want to see the face of my darling Ar in the child that we create together? Maybe it is - honestly, I'm not sure. But it doesn't go away. When I think of how much I love Ar and how happy I am that we found each other, all I know is that I want to have a child with him. I'll take it all... the good, the bad, and the ugly. Or am I just not equipped properly to be a good mom? That's not true, is it?

Shake it off, girl - it's not true. That's not why.... Right?

Infertility is ridiculously cruel!!

In the meantime, 40.... and all I can hear is the slow, ominous creaking of a door closing. If I'm not equipped now, when will I be?

In other news, I came to tears at the Walgreens a few days ago, upon seeing this adorable little guy in a giraffe rain coat and zebra galoshes. He was the cutest little thing!! There was just something about him that just killed me. I just stared at this little guy. Then I had to hightail it out of there, before I burst into weepy tears right there. Besides, I think the kid's mom was starting to worry I was going to steal him. I assure you, dear reader, I had no intention of stealing him. But he sure was cute! A giraffe rain coat - oh my word... with zebra galoshes! Can it get any cuter?

Oh, how I want a little Ar pitter-pattering about, wearing mismatched mammalian rain gear!!!

Infertile and nearly forty. Who would have thunk it?

Nope, I never thought I'd mind about turning 40, but now I find myself wanting to hide under the covers with a nice bottle of Cab, instead of celebrating the life I've lived thus far... with all the goodness that really is in it. But I won't.

I have made a decision to embrace it as best as possible. After all, hiding won't change anything. I'll still be 40. I'll still be infertile (most likely, anyhow... that pesky hope still hovers around.) And I'll still have only a five percent chance of conceiving.

I'll also still have an amazing hubby, who I just adore. A hubby, who, amazingly, seems to adore me... infertile, fat, forty - me. I'll also still have a wonderful group of friends and a wacky, dysfunctional, but loving in their own way, family. I'll still have a sense of humor. I'll still be somewhat quirky. I'll still love to bake bread and other delicious treats. I'll still care very much about people. I'll still think Juke Box Hero is the greatest song, like --- ever!!! I'll still believe. I'll still have my Lord, who loves me more than I can even fathom.

Also, I'll still have (a little) time to pursue further treatment. I'd have to lose more of this anxiety weight first, though - and be in a better frame of mind. It was the right decision to take a break when we did. I realize now that anxiety really has plagued me longer than I thought. It didn't start with the panic attacks, they were merely an extremely unpleasant escalation of the problem. The panic attacks are what prompted me to get help, but the anxiety was there already, big time - probably since I was a tike, myself. Ah, but that's a story for another day.

At any rate, if I can lose weight and if we choose to try the next treatment steps, I believe I'll be in a bit better frame of mind for it. I don't know if that matters or not for my chances of success, but it matters for my overall well-being. But first things first. I have a 40th birthday to start planning.

Psalm 31: 14-16: But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.” My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors! Make your face shine on your servant; save me in your steadfast love!