Fertility Nosedive, Or So She Said
I by no means advocate this, but I hadn't been to the OB/GYN since my daughter was born. She's now nineteen months and it was time. In fact, it had been time some months ago. I could bore you with all details that prevented me from going, but instead I'll provide you with just a few. My company closed while I was on maternity leave, my regular doctor didn't take my new insurance, and new motherhood and time got the best of me (and don't even get me started on my last dental cleaning). There you have it.
So off I was to my new OB/GYN, ready for my annual check-up, pap smear and to make things right (sorry vagina, I owe you an apology). My new doctor introduced herself, we shook hands, and she escorted me into her office to talk before my exam. She proceeded to ask me a barrage of questions: am I married, when was my last period, do I have any sexually transmitted diseases? And then some more: how old I am (33), do I have any children (yes, one), and am I planning on having anymore (yes). "Well," she said, "you should seriously start to consider it. Your fertility takes a nosedive at 35 and you may regret it later."
"Nosedive, doctor?" I said, "That's a pretty bold adjective. Is there really such a difference between 34 and 35? Isn't it more of a gentle progression?" "No." she replied. And there it was, my fertility timeline laid out for me just so. My husband and I had discussed having two kids, and I knew I wanted to be done by 35, but still. This was a relative stranger basically telling me my fertile days were numbered, and she didn't say it with a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down.
The fact is, I do want another baby. Here's another fact for you: I just started to zip up my pre-pregnancy pants again. Yes, it took me practically nineteen months to lose the baby weight and no, I'm not apologizing for it. My skinny jeans just now fit (sort of). I'm sleeping through the night, my breasts are my own (though gravity is making a big play for ownership as well) and I can actually get around to having a cocktail once in a while. To me, that counts for something, and I would like to hang onto it for a little bit longer. I feel like a college kid on spring break. Of course I want to finish college, that's always been my dream. And I love school. But spring break feels really good too, and I'm soaking in the sunshine and good times. I know it will be coming to an end soon, but is it really that terrible to extend spring break for a week or two? Or a few months, as is the case with trying for another baby?
Before we conceived our daughter and we were debating when to start, we couldn't figure out a "right time." Finally, a friend of ours gave us her perspective: there is no perfect time. You just try, take a leap of faith, and know that it will work out. To me, truer words were never spoken. It's a fantastic philosophy, one that requires some time and attention. Perhaps we can ponder it over a few cocktails?
Author: Amy
